Explore "Sappho" by Sara Teasdale on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The twilight's inner flame grows blue and deep, / And in my Lesbos, over leagues of sea, / The temples glimmer moonwise in the trees. / Twilight has veiled the little flower face / Here on my heart, but still the night is kind / And leaves her warm sweet weight against my breast.
Am I that Sappho who would run at dusk / Along the surges creeping up the shore / When tides came in to ease the hungry beach, / And running, running, till the night was black, / Would fall forespent upon the chilly sand / And quiver with the winds from off the sea?