Sappho: One Hundred Lyrics

by Bliss Carman




MY lover smiled,"O friend, ask not
The journey’s end nor whence we are.
That whistling boy who minds his goats
So idly in the grey ravine,

"The brown-backed rower drenched with spray, 


The lemon-seller in the street,
And the young girl who keeps her first
Wild love-tryst at the rising moon,—

"Lo these are wiser than the wise.
And not for all our questioning 


Shall we discover more than joy,
Nor find a better thing than love!

"Let pass the banners and the spears,
The hate, the battle, and the greed;
For greater than all gifts is peace, 

And strength is in the tranquil mind."