Words from my favorite dead poet.

Words from my favorite dead poet. Hard to tell they're over 2,500 years old!

Although they are

Although they are
only breath, words
which I command
are immortal


Blame Aphrodite

It's no use
Mother dear, I
can't finish my
weaving
You may
blame Aphrodite

soft as she is

she has almost
killed me with
love for that boy

And their feet move

And their feet move
rhythmically, as tender
feet of Cretan girls
danced once around an

altar of love, crushing
a circle in the soft
smooth flowering grass

-Sappho

You can browse more of Sappho's work as compiled by OldPoetry, a sister site to Allpoetry, where I have work posted. Enjoy!