Lesbos

Luxurious Lesbos only memory keeps
Of towns in dust, and graves where genius sleeps.
Boasts of the bard who strung her far-famed lyre,
Of Sappho's sweetness and Alcaeus' fire;
Sappho, who proved how warm, how deep
Love's spell In youthful hearts of olden days could dwell;
How, spite of frenzy, still could sweetly flow
Harmonious numbers wrung from harshest woe,
And how weak woman dared for love to die,
And sell her bliss below, her hope on high.

(Extract from Ruins of Many Lands)