Thus drowsy Atthis, laughing at my door: "Sappho, I vow that I will kiss no more Thy lips, and every loveliness, if thou Shouldst still refuse to bare thy beauty now! "O from thy bed unloosen every charm Of all thy strength beloved in limb and arm; And doff thy robe and bathe thee as the white Lily that leaves the river for the light; "And Cleis on thee, at thy glowing call, A shimmering robe of saffron shall let fall; And we, thy girl friends, in a vestal throng, Shall wreathe thy hair while thirsting for thy song." |