Chapter VIII

Sappho, Sappho, long ago the dust of earth mingled with the dust of
thy dear limbs,
And only little clay figures, painted with Tyrian red, with crocus, and
with Lydian gold,
Remain to show thy beauty; but thy wild lovely songs shall last for
ever.
Soon we too shall join Anaktoria and Kudno and kiss thy pale shadowy
fingers.