Sappho — Maidenhood

Do I long for maidenhood?         Do I long for days When upon the mountain slope         I would stand and gaze Over the Ægean's blue         Melting into mist, Ere with love my virgin lips         Cercolas had kissed? Maidenhood, O maidenhood,         Whither hast thou flown? To a land beyond the sea         Thou hast never known. Maidenhood, O maidenhood,         Wilt return to me? Never will my bloom again         Give its grace to thee. Now the autumn skies are low,         Youth and summer sped; Shepherd hills are far away,         Cercolas is dead. Mitylene's marble courts         Echo with my name;— Maidenhood, we never dreamed,         Long ago of fame.