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by   Sappho

Attend the fragrant-blossomed Muses' lovely gifts.
Enjoy, girls, and dance to the clear melodious lyre.
Mine was once a lithe body, but I'm old of age now.
Inescapably my hair's hued grey, instead of dark.

My heart's grown heavy, my knees will not support me,
That once on-a-time were fleet as fawns for the dance.
This state I bemoan but what's to do?
Not to grow old?  Being human, there's no way. 

As with Tithonus (the tale was told) Rose-Armed Dawn,
Love smitten, carried him off to the world's end.
Handsome and young then- he too became, in time, grey-
Age o'ertook him, this husband to his immortal wife...
        
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Poem ID: 88293   Poem Posted: 1/31/2014
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