Sappho — Golden Pulse

Golden pulse grew on the shore,         Ferns along the hill, And the red cliff roses bore         Bees to drink their fill; Bees that from the meadows bring         Wine of melilot, Honey-sups on golden wing         To the garden grot. But to me, neglected flower,         Phaon will not see, Passion brings no crowning hour,         Honey nor the bee.