Sappho: One Hundred Lyrics

by Bliss Carman


 

LXII


 

PLAY up, play up thy silver flute;
The crickets all are brave;
Glad is the red autumnal earth
    And the blue sea.

Play up thy flawless silver flute; 

5
Dead ripe are fruit and grain.
When Love puts on his scarlet coat,
    Put off thy care.