You Know The Place: Then

You know the place: then
Leave Crete and come to us
waiting where the grove is
pleasantest, by precincts

sacred to you; incense
smokes on the altar, cold
streams murmur through the

apple branches, a young
rose thicket shades the ground
and quivering leaves pour

down deep sleep; in meadows
where horses have grown sleek
among spring flowers, dill

scents the air. Queen! Cyprian!
Fill our gold cups with love
stirred into clear nectar

by Sappho

Comments (2)

Well we all wish to dwell in peace and harmony and the place we all look for is not outside it is within us. Great imagery and nice poem.
This poem seems to match up with Lorie Lee's 'Home From Abroad', something that I accidently stummbled across.