Poems

I took my lyre I took my lyre and said: Come now, my heavenly tortoise shell: become a speaking instrument

I took my lyre and said I took my lyre and said: Come now, my heavenly tortoise shell: become a speaking instrument

In the spring twilight In the spring twilight the full moon is shining: Girls take their places as though around an altar

It is the Muses It is the Muses who have caused me to be honored: they taught me their craft

It was you, Atthis, who said It was you, Atthis, who said “Sappho, if you will not get up and let us look at you I […]

It’s no use 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 […]

Leto and Niobe Before they were mothers Leto and Niobe had been the most devoted of friends

Like the gods. . . In my eyes he matches the gods, that man who sits there facing you–any man whatever– listening from closeby to the […]

Must I remind you, Cleis Must I remind you, Cleis, that sounds of grief are unbecoming in a poet’s household? and that they are not suitable […]

No Word I have had not one word from her Frankly I wish I were dead. When she left, she wept a great deal; she said […]