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 | Poems by John B. Tabb |  |
55
KEATS—SAPPHO.
Methinks, when first the nightingaleWas mated to thy deathless song,
That Sappho with emotion pale,
Amid the Olympian throng,
Again, as in the Lesbian grove,
Stood listening with lips apart,
To hear in thy melodious love
The pantings of her heart.
| Poems by John B. Tabb | |