Sappho's New Song

Seize the flower-folded Muses' gifts,
Girls -- the clear-songed lyre's music lifts

But not for me. My tender body's marked
By old age, my hair's turned white from dark,

My heart's heavy, and my knees are gone
That once let me dance as fleet as fawns.

I complain; but what else is there -- rage?
Being human, I cannot not age.

You've heard how Tithonus had his day:
Rose-armed Dawn loved him, took him away,

Young and handsome then, and yet grey time
Caught him, aged him in an immortal's house.


Very rough -- the meter's crap, the last couplet isn't, and rage is wrenched in for the rhyme by a recent exposure to Dylan Thomas. Needs much work.

---L, ovid's stepson.