#I Loved Thee Atthis in the Long Ago

[canadachronicles]

"(Sappho XXIII) I loved thee, Atthis, in the long ago, When the great oleanders were in flower In the broad herded meadows full of sun. And we would often at the fall of dusk Wander together by the silver stream, When the soft grass-heads were all wet with dew And purple-misted in the fading light. And joy I knew and sorrow at thy voice, And the superb magnificence of love,— The loneliness that saddens solitude, And the sweet speech that makes it durable,— The bitter longing and the keen desire, The sweet companionship through quiet days In the slow ample beauty of the world, And the unutterable glad release Within the temple of the holy night. O Atthis, how I loved thee long ago In that fair perished summer by the sea!"

-- I Loved Thee, Atthis, in the Long Ago, Bliss Carman.

Soon I will be with my love, and it will be Summer and we'll be by the sea, for she lives in the Southern Hemisphere, and I truly cannot wait. In the meantime, I whisper Bliss Carman poems in the phone on Valentine's' Day, and I picture her lounging lavishly in satin sheets...

[michaelbogild]

I loved thee, Atthis, in the long ago,

When the great oleanders were in flower

In the broad herded meadows full of sun.

And we would often at the fall of dusk

Wander together by the silver stream,

When the soft grass-heads

were all wet with dew,

And purple-misted in the fading light.

And joy I knew and sorrow at thy voice,

And the superb magnificence of love,—

The loneliness that saddens solitude, 

And the sweet speech

that makes it durable,—

The bitter longing and the keen desire,

The sweet companionship

through quiet days

In the slow ample beauty of the world,

And the unutterable glad release

Within the temple of the holy night.

O Atthis, how I loved thee long ago

In that fair perished summer by the sea!

From “Sappho: One Hundred Lyrics” by Bliss Carman

[kkintle]

The Poetry of Sappho by Sappho; Quotes

"SAPPHO WHO BROKE OFF A FRAGMENT OF HER SOUL FOR US TO GUESS AT."

"Love's priestess, mad with pain and joy of song, Song's priestess, mad with joy and pain of love."

How many times to frail mortals  Hast thou not hearkened! Now even I come before thee With oil and honey and wheat-bread, Praying for strength and fulfilment Of human longing, with purpose Ever to keep thy great worship Pure and undarkened.

And thou, sea-born Aphrodite, In whose beneficent keeping Earth, with her infinite beauty, Colour and fashion and fragrance, Glows like a flower with fervour Where woods are vernal! Touch with thy lips and enkindle This moon-white delicate body, Drench with the dew of enchantment This mortal one, that I also Grow to the measure of beauty Fleet yet eternal.

"What fair thing wouldst thou Lure now to love thee?

Peer of the gods he seems, Who in thy presence Sits and hears close to him Thy silver speech-tones And lovely laughter. Ah, but the heart flutters Under my bosom, When I behold thee Even a moment; Utterance leaves me; My tongue is useless; A subtle fire Runs through my body; My eyes are sightless, And my ears ringing; I flush with fever, And a strong trembling Lays hold upon me; Paler than grass am I, Half dead for madness. Yet must I, greatly Daring, adore thee, As the adventurous Sailor makes seaward For the lost sky-line And undiscovered Fabulous islands, Drawn by the lure of Beauty and summer And the sea's secret.

"The girl must have knowledge, To lend her freedom and poise. Naught will avail her beauty, If she have not wit beside.

"Mother of beauty, mother of joy, Why hast thou given to men "This thing called love, like the ache of a wound In beauty's, side, To burn and throb and be quelled for an hour And never wholly depart?"

And joy I knew and sorrow at thy voice, And the superb magnificence of love,— The loneliness that saddens solitude, And the sweet speech that makes it durable,— The bitter longing and the keen desire, The sweet companionship through quiet days In the slow ample beauty of the world, And the unutterable glad release Within the temple of the holy night. O Atthis, how I loved thee long ago In that fair perished summer by the sea!

And no man shall possess me Henceforth and forever.

But thou alone shalt gather This fragile flower of beauty,— To crush and keep the fragrance Like a holy incense. Thou only shalt remember This love of mine, or hallow The coming years with gladness, Calm and pride and passion.

Love shakes my soul, like a mountain wind Falling upon the trees, When they are swayed and whitened and bowed As the great gusts will.

With remembrance and joy. Ah, timid Syrinx, do I not know Thy tremor of sweet fear? For a beautiful and imperious player Is the lord of life.

How I adore thee. Let the hoarse torrent In the blue canyon, Murmuring mightily Out of the grey mist Of primal chaos, Cease not proclaiming How I adore thee.

But more than all sounds, Surer, serener, Fuller with passion And exultation, Let the hushed whisper In thine own heart say, How I adore thee.

I grow weary of the foreign cities, The sea travel and the stranger peoples. Even the clear voice of hardy fortune Dares me not as once on brave adventure. For the heart of man must seek and wander, Ask and question and discover knowledge; Yet above all goodly things is wisdom, And love greater than all understanding. So, a mariner, I long for land-fall,—

Art thou the top-most apple The gatherers could not reach, Reddening on the bough? Shall not I take thee? Art thou a hyacinth blossom The shepherds upon the hills Have trodden into the ground? Shall not I lift thee? Free is the young god Eros, Paying no tribute to power, Seeing no evil in beauty, Full of compassion. Once having found the beloved, However sorry or woeful, However scornful of loving, Little it matters.

For I am eager, and the flame of life Burns quickly in the fragile lamp of clay. Passion and love and longing and hot tears Consume this mortal Sappho, and too soon A great wind from the dark will blow upon me, And I be no more found in the fair world, For all the search of the revolving moon And patient shine of everlasting stars.

"Yet, for all the roses, All the flutes and lovers, Doubt not she was lonely As the sea, whose cadence Haunts the world for ever."

When I have departed, Say but this behind me, "Love was all her wisdom, All her care. "Well she kept love's secret,— Dared and never faltered,—  Laughed and never doubted Love would win. "Let the world's rough triumph Trample by above her, She is safe forever From all harm. "In a land that knows not Bitterness nor sorrow, She has found out all Of truth at last."

My lover smiled, "O friend, ask not The journey's end, nor whence we are.

"Lo, these are wiser than the wise. And not for all our questioning Shall we discover more than joy, Nor find a better thing than love! " Let pass the banners and the spears, The hate, the battle, and the greed; For greater than all gifts is peace, And strength is in the tranquil mind."

How strange is love, O my lover! With what enchantment and power Does it not come upon mortals, Learned or heedless! How far away and unreal, Faint as blue isles in a sunset Haze-golden, all else of life seems, Since I have known thee!

In the quiet garden world, Gold sunlight and shadow leaves Flicker on the wall. And the wind, a moment since, With rose-petals strewed the path And the open door. Now the moon-white butterflies Float across the liquid air, Glad as in a dream; And, across thy lover's heart, Visions of one scarlet mouth With its maddening smile.

Love is so strong a thing, The very gods must yield, When it is welded fast  With the unflinching truth. Love is so frail a thing, A word, a look, will kill. Oh lovers, have a care How ye do deal with love.

Then I became as that shepherd Loved by Selene on Latmus, Once when her own summer magic Took hold upon her With a sweet madness, and thenceforth Her mortal lover must wander Over the wide world for ever, Like one enchanted.

Loving Heart, There must be an end to summer, And the flute be laid aside. On a day the frost will come, Walking through the autumn world, Hushing all the brave endeavour Of the crickets in the grass.

Frail as dew upon the grass Or the spindrift of the sea, Out of nothing they were fashioned And to nothing must return. Nay, but something of thy love, Passion, tenderness, and joy,  Some strange magic of thy beauty, Some sweet pathos of thy tears, Must imperishably cling To the cadence of the words, Like a spell of lost enchantments Laid upon the hearts of men. Wild and fleeting as the notes Blown upon a woodland pipe, They must haunt the earth with gladness And a tinge of old regret.

[johaerys-writes]

I loved thee, Atthis, in the long ago,

When the great oleanders were in flower

In the broad herded meadows full of sun.

And we would often at the fall of dusk

Wander together by the silver stream,

When the soft grass-heads were all wet with dew

And purple-misted in the fading light.

And joy I knew and sorrow at thy voice,

And the superb magnificence of love,—

The bitter longing and the keen desire,

The sweet companionship through quiet days

In the slow ample beauty of the world,

And the unutterable glad release

Within the temple of the holy night.

From Sappho XXIII; I Loved Thee Athis In The Long Ago, Bliss Carman

[geminalie]

I loved thee, Atthis, once, once long ago.

Sappho: A New Rendering, “I Loved Thee”, tr. Henry de Vere Stacpoole

[samrat747]

I Loved Thee, Atthis, in the Long Ago by Bliss Carman (Sappho XXIII) I loved thee, Atthis, in the long ago, When the great oleanders were in flower In the broad herded meadows full of sun. And we would often at the fall of dusk

- http://moby.to/wj2peh