Sappho: One Hundred Lyrics

by Bliss Carman


 

Now to please my little friend


 

Now to please my little friend
I must make these notes of spring,
With the soft south-west wind in them
And the marsh notes of the frogs.

I must take a gold-bound pipe,

5
And outmatch the bubbling call
From the beechwoods in the sunlight,
From the meadows in the rain.