Impassioned singer of the happy time. <br />When all the world was waking into morn, <br />And dew still glistened on the tangled thorn, <br />And lingered on the branches of the lime — <br />Oh peerless singer of the golden rhyme, <br />Happy wert thou to live ere doubt was born — <br />Before the joy of life was half out-worn, <br />And nymphs and satyrs vanished from your clime. <br />Then maidens bearing parsley in their hands <br />Wound thro' the groves to where the goddess stands, <br />And mariners might sail for unknown lands <br />Past sea-clasped islands veiled in mystery — <br />And Venus still was shining from the sea, <br />And Ceres had not lost Persephone.<br /><br />Sara Teasdale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-sappho-i/
