Sappho: One Hundred Lyrics

by Bliss Carman


 

XXVII


 

LOVER, art thou of a surety
Not a learner of the wood-god?
Has the madness of his music
    Never touched thee?

Ah, thou dear and godlike mortal, 

5
If Pan takes thee for his pupil,
Make me but another Syrinx
    For that piping.