The Star Dial

Δέδυκε μὲν ἀ σελάννα καὶ Πληΐαδες —Sappho When the moon was high I waited, Pale with evening’s tints it shone; When its gold came slow, belated, Still I kept my watch alone When it sank, a golden wonder, From my window still I bent, Though the clouds hung thick with thunder Where our hilltop roadway went. By the cypress tops I’ve counted Every golden star that passed; Weary hours they’ve shone and mounted, Each more tender than the last. All my pillows hot with turning, All my weary maids asleep; Every star in heaven was burning For the tryst you did not keep. Now the clouds have hushed their warning, Paleness creeps upon the sea; One star more, and then the morning— Share, oh, share that star with me! Never fear that I shall chide thee For the wasted stars of night, So thine arms will come and hide me From the dawn’s unwelcome light. Though the moon a heav’n had given us, Every star a crown and throne, Till the morn apart had driven us— Let the last star be our own. Ah! the cypress tops are sighing With the wind that brings the day; There my last pale treasure dying Ebbs in jeweled light away; Ebbs like water bright, untasted; Black the cypress, bright the sea; Heav’n’s whole treasury lies wasted And the dawn burns over me.