Lifted my soul and made me half a god.
Farewell; across the threshold many feet
Shall pass, but never Sappho’s feet again.
Girls shall come in whom love has made aware
Of all their swaying beauty—they shall sing,
But never Sappho’s voice like golden fire
Shall seek for heaven thro’ your echoing rafters;
There shall be sparrows bringing back the spring
Over the long blue meadows of the sea,
And south wind playing on the reeds of rain,