Why, when I gaze on Phaon's beauteous eyes, Why does each thought in wild disorder stray? Why does each fainting faculty decay, And my chilled breast in throbbing tumults rise? Mute, on the ground my lyre neglected lies, The Muse forgot, and lost the melting lay; My down-cast looks, my faltering lips betray, That stung by hopeless passion, -- Sappho dies! Now, on a bank of Cypress let me rest; Come, tuneful maids, ye pupils of my care, Come, with your dulcet numbers soothe my breast; And, as the soft vibrations float on air, Let pity waft my spirit to the blessed, To mock the barbarous triumphs of despair! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NEW APOCRYPHA: BUSINESS REVERSES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS BUCOLIC COMEDY: KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID by EDITH SITWELL CITY VIGNETTE: DAWN by SARA TEASDALE PARTING AT MORNING by ROBERT BROWNING TO HIS WATCH, WHEN HE COULD NOT SLEEP by EDWARD HERBERT FOUR-LEAF CLOVER by ELLA (RHOADS) HIGGINSON |