Yoking thy chariot. Swiftly did the doves fly,
Swiftly they brought thee, waving plumes of wonder--
Waving their dark plumes all across the æther,
All down the azure.
Very soon they lighted. Then didst thou, Divine one,
Laugh a bright laugh from lips and eyes immortal,
Ask me 'What ailed me--wherefore out of heaven,
Thus I had called thee?
What was it made me madden in my heart so?'
Question me smiling--say to me, 'My Sappho,