Sappho — Aphrodites Praise

O Sappho, why art thou ever Singing with praises the blessed         Queen of the heaven? Why does the heart in thy bosom Ever revert in its yearning         Throb to the Goddess? Why are thy senses unsated Ever in quest of elusive         Love that is deathless? Ah, gracious Daughter of Cyprus, Never can I as a mortal         Tire of thy service. Thou art the breath of my body, The blood in my veins, and the glowing Pulse of my bosom. Omnipotent, burning, resistless, Thou art the passion that shaking         Masters me ever. Thou art the crisis of rapture Relaxing my limbs, and the melting         Ebb of emotion; Bringing the tears to my lashes, Sighs to my lips, in the swooning         Excess of passion. O golden-crowned Aphrodite, Grant I shall ever be grateful,         Sure of thy favor; Worthy the lot of thy priestess, Supreme in the song that forever         Rings with thy praises.