Les jours ondoyants que la clarté nuance,
Les nuits de parfums viendront éterniser
Nos frémissements, notre ardente souffrance
Et notre baiser.
Clear air and wind, and under in clamorous vales
Fierce noises of the fiery nightingales,
Buds burning in the sudden spring like fire,
The wan waste sand and the waves' vain desire,
Sails seen like blown white flowers at sea, and words
That bring tears swiftest, and long notes of birds
Violently singing till the whole world sings —
I Sappho shall be one with all these things,
With all high things for ever ; and my face
Seen once, my songs once heard in a strange place
Cleave to men’s lives, and waste the days thereof
With gladness and much sadness and long love.
SWINBURNE : Poems and Ballads, Anactoria.
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