SAPPHO
Midnight, and in the darkness not a sound;
So, with hushed breathing, sleeps the autumn night.
Only the white immortal stars shall know,
Here in the house by the low-lintelled door,
How for the last time I have lit the lamp.
I think you are not wholly careless now,
Walls, that have sheltered me so many an hour,
Bed, that has brought me ecstasy and sleep,
Floors, that have borne me when a gale of joy