Since Night, which hath the myriad ears,
Sends her word of what she hears
Across the severing main.
This tender simplicity is the soul of Sappho, and in her verse even a few words will suggest a picture:
Come to me, O Love:
O Love, the inheritor, enter in.
Everywhere is swept and garnished,
Everything is prepared.
The fire of my heart burns brightly,
All my body is food for thee,