II
You loved me on that moonlit night long since.
You were my queen and I the charming prince
Elected from a world of mortal men.
You loved me once.... What pity was it, then,
You loved not Love.... Deep in the emerald west,
Like a returning caravel caressed
By breezes that load all the ambient airs
With clinging fragrance of the bales it bears
From harbors where the caravans come down,
I see over the roof-tops of the town
The new moon back again, but shall not see
The joy that once it had in store for me,
Nor know again the voice upon the stair,
The little studio in the candle-glare,
And all that makes in word and touch and glance
The bliss of the first nights of a romance
When will to love and be beloved casts out
The want to question or the will to doubt.
You loved me once.... Under the western seas
The pale moon settles and the Pleiades.
The firelight sinks; outside the night-winds moan—
The hour advances, and I sleep alone.[1]
- ↑ Δέδυκε μὲν ἁ σελλάννα καὶ Πληίαδες, μέσσαι δε νύκτες, πάρα δ᾽ ἔρχετ᾽ ὥρα ἔγω δε μόνα κατεύδω.—Sappho.
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