Sappho
I envy you your chance of death,how I envy you this.I am more covetous of himeven than of your glance,I wish more from his presencethough he torture me in a grasp,terrible, intense.
Though he clasp me in an embracethat is set against my willand rack me with his measure,effortless yet full of strength,and slay mein that most horrible contest,still, how I envy you your chance.
Though he pierce me--imperious--iron--fever--dust--though beauty is slainwhen I perish,I envy you death.
What is beauty to me?has she not slain me enough,have I not cried in agony of love,birth, hate,in pride crushed?
What is left after this?what can death loose in meafter your embrace?your touch,your limbs are more terribleto do me hurt.
What can death send methat you have not?you gathered violets,you spoke:“your hair is not less black,nor less fragrant,nor in your eyes is less light,your hair is not less sweetwith purple in the lift of lock;”why were those slight wordsand the violets you gatheredof such worth?
How I envy you death;what could death bring,more black, more set with sparksto slay, to affright,than the memory of those first violets,the chance lift of your voice,the chance blinding frenzyas you bent?
So the goddess has slain mefor your chance smileand my scarf unfoldingas you stooped to it;so she trapped mewith the upward sweep of your armas you lifted the veil,and the swift smile and selfless.
Could I have known?nay, spare pity,though I break,crushed under the goddess’ hate,though I fall beaten at last,so high have I thrust my glanceup into her presence.
Words in this poem
- covetous a.
- Very desirous; eager to obtain; -- used in a good sense. [OF. coveitos, F. convoiteux. See Covet, v. t.]
- effortless a.
- Making no effort. Southey.
- imperious a.
- Commanding; ascendant; imperial; lordly; majestic. [L. imperiosus: cf. F. impérieux. See Imperial.]
- spoke n.
- The radius or ray of a wheel; one of the small bars which are inserted in the hub, or nave, and which serve to support the rim or felly. [OE. spoke, spake, AS, spaca; akin to D. speek, LG. speke, OHG. speihha, G. speiche. sq. root170. Cf. Spike a nail.]
- selfless a.
- Having no regard to self; unselfish.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Sappho is in the public domain. This text is taken from Heliodora, and Other Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #62456; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: H.D., Sappho, in Heliodora, and Other Poems (1924), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #62456, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hd-heliodora/sappho-4.html, id L24318.
Form and metre
Sappho is 65 lines in 9 stanzas. The metre is iambic trimeter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 78%).
See other poems in iambic trimeter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ---AA-A death · this · him · glanceA · presenceA · grasp · intenseA
- 8 A---A--- meA · smile · unfolding · it · meA · arm · veil · selfless
- 9 -----AA known · pity · break · hate · last · glanceA · presenceA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic trimeter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| I envy you your chance of death, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| how I envy you this. | 6 | ··/˘·· |
| I am more covetous of him | 8 | ···/˘˘·· |
| even than of your glance, | 6 | /˘···· |
| I wish more from his presence | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| though he torture me in a grasp, | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| terrible, intense. | 5 | /˘˘˘/ |
| Though he clasp me in an embrace | 8 | ······˘/ |
| that is set against my will | 7 | ······· |
| and rack me with his measure, | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| effortless yet full of strength, | 7 | /˘˘···· |
| and slay me | 3 | ··· |
| in that most horrible contest, | 8 | ···/˘˘/˘ |
| still, how I envy you your chance. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Though he pierce me--imperious-- | 8 | ····˘/˘˘ |
| iron--fever--dust-- | 5 | /˘/˘· |
| though beauty is slain | 5 | ·/˘·· |
| when I perish, | 4 | ··/˘ |
| I envy you death. | 5 | ·/˘·· |
| What is beauty to me? | 6 | ··/˘·· |
| has she not slain me enough, | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| have I not cried in agony of love, | 10 | ·····/˘˘·· |
| birth, hate, | 2 | ·· |
| in pride crushed? | 3 | ··· |
| What is left after this? | 6 | ······ |
| what can death loose in me | 6 | ······ |
| after your embrace? | 5 | ···˘/ |
| your touch, | 2 | ·· |
| your limbs are more terrible | 7 | ····/˘˘ |
| to do me hurt. | 4 | ···· |
| What can death send me | 5 | ····· |
| that you have not? | 4 | ···· |
| you gathered violets, | 6 | ·/˘/˘˘ |
| you spoke: | 2 | ·· |
| “your hair is not less black, | 6 | ······ |
| nor less fragrant, | 4 | ··/˘ |
| nor in your eyes is less light, | 7 | ······· |
| your hair is not less sweet | 6 | ······ |
| with purple in the lift of lock;” | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| why were those slight words | 5 | ····· |
| and the violets you gathered | 8 | ··/˘˘·/˘ |
| of such worth? | 3 | ··· |
| How I envy you death; | 6 | ··/˘·· |
| what could death bring, | 4 | ···· |
| more black, more set with sparks | 6 | ······ |
| to slay, to affright, | 5 | ···˘/ |
| than the memory of those first violets, | 11 | ··/˘˘···/˘˘ |
| the chance lift of your voice, | 6 | ······ |
| the chance blinding frenzy | 6 | ··/˘/˘ |
| as you bent? | 3 | ··· |
| So the goddess has slain me | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| for your chance smile | 4 | ···· |
| and my scarf unfolding | 6 | ···˘/˘ |
| as you stooped to it; | 5 | ····· |
| so she trapped me | 4 | ···· |
| with the upward sweep of your arm | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| as you lifted the veil, | 6 | ··/˘·· |
| and the swift smile and selfless. | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Could I have known? | 4 | ···· |
| nay, spare pity, | 4 | ··/˘ |
| though I break, | 3 | ··· |
| crushed under the goddess’ hate, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| though I fall beaten at last, | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| so high have I thrust my glance | 7 | ······· |
| up into her presence. | 6 | ····/˘ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.