Cover image from the 1889 edition published by George Bell and Sons. Armstrong Browning Library, Baylor University, Waco, Texas. Annotations LONG AGO Michael Field (title page) (frontispiece) (epigraph) Preface Hither now, Muses ! leaving golden seats. They plaited garlands in their time Come, dark-eyed sleep, thou child of night Oh, not the honey, nor the bee! Where with their boats the fishers land As on the hills the shepherds tread Erinna, thou art ever fair Stir not the shingle with thy boat With love nor languorous nor vain Thou hast not parted from the sun Ah, Procne, wherefore dost thou weary me? Dreamless from happy sleep I woke Spring's messenger we hail Dica, the Graces oft incline Atthis, my darling, thou did'st stray No angry voice is heard Delicate Graces, come The moon rose full: the women stood Boreas, leave thy Thracian cave When longing on my couch I lay I sang to women gathered round Ye rosy-armed, pure Graces, come They bring me gifts, they honour me Lift, lover, they long-shadowed eyne! Why should I praise thee, blissful Aphrodite? Ah for Adonis! So Not Gello's self loves more than I Mnasidica in form and gait Love, fatal creature, bitter-sweet When through thy breast wild wrath doth spread Thine elder that I am, thou must not cling Nay, I have no experience of ill Not for revenge!-one shaft alone Maids, not to you my mind doth change "Sing to us, Sappho!" cried the crowd Come, Gorgo, put the rug in place Yea, gold is son of Zeus: no rust Queen Dawn, in immortality doth bask He towers 'mong men of other lands Me thou forgettest: thou alone of all Sisters doom-weaving, dread Death is an evil; had it been a boon She comes, and youthful voices Cool water gurgles through Nought to me! So I choose to say Ah friends, who altered grow "Fool, faint not thou!" I laughed in blame No other girl - O bridegroom, thou art right - The stars about the moon When my dear maidens lie Muse of the golden throne, my griefs assuage Deep in my mirror's glossy plate Climbing the hill a coil of snakes Dear bridegroom, it is spring; the boughs rejoice Adown the Lesbian vales Oh Hymen Hymenaeus Leto and Niobe were friends full dear My shell is mute; Apollo doth refuse What are these roses like? Oh, they are rare Night fell: Selene proud and pale She loved the perfumed inlet; in the spring There is laughter soft and free My daughter, when I come to die Grow vocal to me, O my shell divine! Above a fisher's tomb Prometheus fashioned man We sat and chatted at our ease Dim is the rich-wrought broidery Thou burnest us; thy torches' flashing spires O free me, for I take the leap NOTE Works Cited Book traversal links for Long Ago (1889) (title page) ›
