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The Poems of Sappho, by John Myers O'Hara, [1910], at sacred-texts.com
Do I long for maidenhood?
Do I long for days
When upon the mountain slope
I would stand and gaze
Over the Ægean's blue
Melting into mist,
Ere with love my virgin lips
Cercolas had kissed?
Maidenhood, O maidenhood,
Whither hast thou flown?
To a land beyond the sea
Thou hast never known.
Maidenhood, O maidenhood,
Wilt return to me?
Never will my bloom again
Give its grace to thee.
Now the autumn skies are low,
Youth and summer sped;
Shepherd hills are far away,
Cercolas is dead.
Mitylene's marble courts
Echo with my name;—
Maidenhood, we never dreamed,
Long ago of fame.