(Sappho XXIII)
 I loved thee, Atthis, in the long ago,
 When the great oleanders were in flower
 In the broad herded meadows full of sun.
 And we would often at the fall of dusk
 Wander together by the silver stream,
 When the soft grass-heads were all wet with dew
 And purple-misted in the fading light.
 And joy I knew and sorrow at thy voice,
 And the superb magnificence of love,?
 The loneliness that saddens solitude,
 And the sweet speech that makes it durable,?
 The bitter longing and the keen desire,
 The sweet companionship through quiet days
 In the slow ample beauty of the world,
 And the unutterable glad release
 Within the temple of the holy night.
 O Atthis, how I loved thee long ago
 In that fair perished summer by the sea!