Sappho: One Hundred Lyrics

by Bliss Carman




SLEEP thou in the bosom
Of the tender comrade,
While the living water
Whispers in the well-run,
And the oleanders

Glimmer in the moonlight.

Soon, ah, soon the shy birds
Will be at their fluting,
And the morning planet
Rise above the garden;

For there is a measure
Set to all things mortal.