
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.