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The Poems of Sappho, by John Myers O'Hara, [1910], at

p. 88


Dark-eyed Sleep, child of Night,
  Come in thy shadow garment to my couch,
And with thy soothing touch,
Cool as the vesper breeze,
  Grant that I may forget;

Bestow condign release,
  A taste of rest that comes with endless sleep;
Lure off the haunting dreams,
The dire Eumenides
  That torture my repose.

For I would live a space
  Though Phaon has forsaken me, nor yet
Be found on shadow fields
Among the lilies tall
  Of pale Persephone.

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