To a Song of Sappho discovered in Egypt
To a Song of Sappho discovered in Egypt
And Sappho’s flowers, so few,But roses all.Meleager.Jonah wept within the whale;But you have sung these centuriesUnder the brown banks of the NileWithin a dead dried crocodile:So fares the learned tale.When they embalmed the sacred beastThe Sapphic scroll was white and strongTo wrap the spices that were needed,Its song unheard, its word unheededBy crocodile or priest.The song you sang on Lesbos whenAtthis was kind, or Mica sad;The startled whale spewed Jonah wide,From out the monster mummifiedYour roses sing again.Your roses! from the seven strandsOf the small harp whereon they grew;The holy beast has had his pleasure,His bellyful of Attic measureUnder the desert sands.Along strange winds your petals blewIn singing fragments, roses all;The air is heavy on the Nile,The drowsy gods drowse on the whileAs gods are wont to do.
And Sappho’s flowers, so few,But roses all.Meleager.Jonah wept within the whale;But you have sung these centuriesUnder the brown banks of the NileWithin a dead dried crocodile:So fares the learned tale.When they embalmed the sacred beastThe Sapphic scroll was white and strongTo wrap the spices that were needed,Its song unheard, its word unheededBy crocodile or priest.The song you sang on Lesbos whenAtthis was kind, or Mica sad;The startled whale spewed Jonah wide,From out the monster mummifiedYour roses sing again.Your roses! from the seven strandsOf the small harp whereon they grew;The holy beast has had his pleasure,His bellyful of Attic measureUnder the desert sands.Along strange winds your petals blewIn singing fragments, roses all;The air is heavy on the Nile,The drowsy gods drowse on the whileAs gods are wont to do.
And Sappho’s flowers, so few,But roses all.Meleager.
And Sappho’s flowers, so few,
But roses all.
Meleager.
Jonah wept within the whale;But you have sung these centuriesUnder the brown banks of the NileWithin a dead dried crocodile:So fares the learned tale.
Jonah wept within the whale;
But you have sung these centuries
Under the brown banks of the Nile
Within a dead dried crocodile:
So fares the learned tale.
When they embalmed the sacred beastThe Sapphic scroll was white and strongTo wrap the spices that were needed,Its song unheard, its word unheededBy crocodile or priest.
When they embalmed the sacred beast
The Sapphic scroll was white and strong
To wrap the spices that were needed,
Its song unheard, its word unheeded
By crocodile or priest.
The song you sang on Lesbos whenAtthis was kind, or Mica sad;The startled whale spewed Jonah wide,From out the monster mummifiedYour roses sing again.
The song you sang on Lesbos when
Atthis was kind, or Mica sad;
The startled whale spewed Jonah wide,
From out the monster mummified
Your roses sing again.
Your roses! from the seven strandsOf the small harp whereon they grew;The holy beast has had his pleasure,His bellyful of Attic measureUnder the desert sands.
Your roses! from the seven strands
Of the small harp whereon they grew;
The holy beast has had his pleasure,
His bellyful of Attic measure
Under the desert sands.
Along strange winds your petals blewIn singing fragments, roses all;The air is heavy on the Nile,The drowsy gods drowse on the whileAs gods are wont to do.
Along strange winds your petals blew
In singing fragments, roses all;
The air is heavy on the Nile,
The drowsy gods drowse on the while
As gods are wont to do.