Sappho: One Hundred Lyrics

by Bliss Carman


 

LXXXVII


 

HADST thou, with all thy loveliness, been true,
Had I, with all my tenderness, been strong,
We had not made this ruin out of life,
This desolation in a world of joy,
    My poor Gorgo.
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Yet even the high gods at times do err;
Be therefore thou not overcome with woe,
But dedicate anew to greater love
An equal heart, and be thy radiant self
    Once more, Gorgo.
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