Bringing ineffable peace, and the gladsome Return with the night of all things that morning Ruthlessly parted, the child to its mother, Lover to lover. From the marble court of rose-crowned companions, All alone my feet again seek the little Theatre pledged to the Muse, now deserted, Facing the surges; Where the carved Pan-heads that laugh down the gentle Slope of broad steps to the refluent ripple, Flute from their thin pipes the dithyrambs deathless, Songs all unuttered. Empty each seat where my girl friends acclaimed me, Poets with names on the tiered stone engraven, Over whose verge blooms the apple tree, drifting Perfume and petals; Gone Telesippa and tender Gyrinno, Anactoria, woman divine; Atthis, Subtlest of soul, fair Damophyla, Dica, Maids of the Muses. Here an hour past soul-enravished they listened While my rapt heart breathed its pæan impassioned, Chanted its wild prayer to thee, Aphrodite, Daughter of Cyprus; Now to their homes are they gone in the city, Pensive to dream limb-relaxed while the languid Slaves come and lift from the tresses they loosen, Flowers that have faded. Thou alone, Sappho, art sole with the silence, Sole with night and dreams that are darkness, weaving Thoughts that are sighs from the heart and their meaning Vague as the shadow; When the great silence shall come to thee, sad one, Men that forget shall remember thy music, Murmur thy name that shall steal on their passion Soft as the sleep wind. THE REPROACH Kypris, hear my prayer to thee and the Nereids! Safely bring the ship of my brother homewards, Bring him back unharmed to the heart that loves him, Throbbing remorseful; Fair Immortal, banish from mind, I pray thee, Every discord's hint that of yore estranged us; Grant that never again dissension's hateful Wrangle shall part us; May he never in days to come remember Keen reproach of mine that had grieved him sorely; Words that broke my very heart when I heard them Uttered by others; Words that wounded deep and recurring often, Bowed his head with shame at the public banquet; Where my scorn, amid festal joy and laughter, Sharpened the covert Jests that stung his pride and assailed his folly, Slave-espoused when he, a Lesbian noble, Might have won the fairest in Mitylene, Virgins the noblest; Open slurs that linked his name with Doricha, Lovely slave that Xanthes had sold in Egypt; She whose wondrous charms the wealth of Charaxus Ransomed from bondage.