Poetry and Quotations

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To One Who Loved not Poetry

Thou liest dead, and there will be no memory left behind
Of thee or thine in all the earth, for never didst thou bind
The roses of Pierian streams upon thy brow; thy doom
Is now to flit with unknown ghosts in cold and nameless gloom.

Poem by Sappho
Translated by Edwin Arnold, 1893

Sappho Poems

Come Here to Me from Crete - Fragment 2
Hymn to Aphrodite - Fragment 1
The Moon