Sara Teasdale — To Cleis

           "I have a fair daughter with a form like a golden flower,          Cleis, the beloved."                                               Sapphic fragment. When the dusk was wet with dew,    Cleis, did the muses nine    Listen in a silent line While your mother sang to you? Did they weep or did they smile    When she crooned to still your cries,    She, a muse in human guise, Who forsook her lyre awhile? Did you feel her wild heart beat?    Did the warmth of all the sun    Thro' your little body run When she kissed your hands and feet? Did your fingers, babywise,    Touch her face and touch her hair,    Did you think your mother fair, Could you bear her burning eyes? Are the songs that soothed your fears    Vanished like a vanished flame,   Save the line where shines your name Starlike down the graying years? Cleis speaks no word to me,   For the land where she has gone   Lieth mute at dusk and dawn Like a windless tideless sea.