“[You for] the fragrant-blossomed Muses’ lovely gifts[be zealous,] girls, [and the] clear melodious lyre:[but my once tender] body old age now[has seized;] my hair’s turned [white] instead of dark;my heart’s grown heavy, my knees will not support me,that once on a time were fleet for the dance as fawns.This state I oft bemoan; but what’s to do?Not to grow old, being human, there’s no way.Tithonus once, the tale was, rose-armed Dawn,love-smitten, carried off to the world’s end,handsome and young then, yet in time grey ageo’ertook him, husband of immortal wife.”

“Live for the gifts the fragrant-breasted Musessend, for the clear, the singing, lyre, my children.Old age freezes my body, once so lithe,rinses the darkness from my hair, now white.My heart’s heavy, my knees no longer keep meup through the dance they used to prance like fawns in.Oh, I grumble about it, but for what?Nothing can stop a person’s growing old.They say that Tithonus was swept awayin Dawn’s passionate, rose-flushed arms to liveforever, but he lost his looks, his youth,failing husband of an immortal bride.”

“Girls, be good to these spirits of music and poetrythat breast your threshold with their scented gifts.Lift the lyre, clear and sweet, they leave with you.As for me, this body is now so arthriticI cannot play, hardly even hold the instrument.Can you believe my white hair was once black?And oh, the soul grows heavy with the body.Complaining knee-joints creak at every move.To think I danced as delicate as a deer!Some gloomy poems came from these thoughts:useless: we are all born to lose life,and what is worse, girls, to lose youth.The legend of the goddess of the dawnI’m sure you know: how rosy Eosmadly in love with gorgeous young Tithonusswept him like booty to her hiding-placebut then forgot he would grow old and greywhile she in despair pursued her immortal way.”

“Then you my goddess with your immortal lips smilingWould ask what now afflicts me, why againI am calling and what now I with my restive heartDesired: Whom now shall I beguile To bring you to her love? Who now injures you, Sappho? For if she flees, soon shall she chase And, rejecting gifts, soon shall she give. If she does not love you, she shall do so soon Whatsoever is her will.Come to me now to end this consuming painBringing what my heart desires to be brought:Be yourself my ally in this fight.”

“Come to me once more, and abate my torment;Take the bitter care from my mind, and give meAll I long for; Lady, in all my battlesFight as my comrade.”

“Eros once again limb-loosener whirls me sweetbitter, impossible to fight off, creature stealing up...I don't know what I should do: two states of mind in me...”

“It would be dreadfullyironic, I mused, if once I earned a soul, I forgot everything about being fey, including all my memories of her. That sort of ending seemedappropriately tragic; the smitten fey creature becomes human but forgets why he wanted to in the first place. Old fairy tales loved that sort of irony.”