Sappho — The Daughter Of Cyprus

Dreaming I spake with the Daughter of Cyprus, Heard the languor soft of her voice, the blended Suave accord of tones interfused with laughter                         Low and desireful; Dreaming saw her dread ineffable beauty, Saw through texture fine of her clinging tunic Blush the fire of flesh, the rose of her body,                         Radiant, blinding; Saw through filmy meshes the melting lovely Flow of line, the exquisite curves, whence piercing Rapture reached with tangible touch to thrill me,                         Almost to slay me; Saw the gleaming foot, and the golden sandal Held by straps of Lydian work thrice doubled Over the instep's arch, and up the rounded                         Dazzling ankle; Saw the charms that shimmered from knee to shoulder, Hint of hues, than milk or the snowdrift whiter; Secret grace, the shrine of the soul of passion,                         Glows that consumed me; Saw the gathered mass of her xanthic tresses, Mitra-bound, escape from the clasping fillet, Float and shine as clouds in the sunset splendor,                         Mists in the dawn-fire; Saw the face immortal, and daring greatly, Raised my eyes to hers of unfathomed azure, Drank their world's desire, their limitless longing,                         Swooned and was nothing.