(Sappho XXIII) br I loved thee, Atthis, in the long ago, br When the great oleanders were in flower br In the broad herded meadows full of sun. br And we would often at the fall of dusk br Wander together by the silver stream, br When the soft grass-heads were all wet with dew br And purple-miste d in the fading light. br And joy I knew and sorrow at thy voice, br And the superb magnificence of love,— br The loneliness that saddens solitude, br And the sweet speech that makes it durable,— br The bitter longing and the keen desire, br The sweet companionshi p through quiet days br In the slow ample beauty of the world, br And the unutterable glad release br Within the temple of the holy night.