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

p. 53


I loved you, Atthis, once, long years ago!
My blood was flame that thrilled to passion's throe;
Now long neglect has quenched the olden fire,
And blight of drifting years effaced desire.

I loved you, Atthis—joy of long ago—
Love shook my soul as winds on forests blow;
This lawless heart that dared exhaust delight,
Unsated strove and maddened through the night.

I loved you, Atthis, once, long years ago!
With pain whose surge I felt to anguish grow;
Suffered the storms that waste the heart and leave
A desert shore where seas but break to grieve.

I loved you, Atthis—spring of long ago—
Watched you depart, to Andromeda go;
Then I, as keen despair its shadow cast,
O’er my deserted threshold, sobbing, passed.

I loved you, Atthis, once, long years ago!
The thought of me is hateful now, I know;
And all the lavish tenderness of old
Has gone from me and left my bosom cold.

I loved you, Atthis—dream of long ago—
.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .
How the fond words, impassioned music low,
Sustain the sigh of love's divine regret
No length of time may bid the heart forget.

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