Let us now go,you gentle reader,
In an abyss of cricket’s darkness,
Auditory to just your private ears.
Hope you do not fear the screech.
Poet’s words are a cricket’s song.
Just follow them by strike sounds
And you may end up tactile rich.
The lexical import is immaterial
When they strike ears in aplomb.
You may look for gentle lyricism
Just below their sound and flurry
That tingles like morning breeze.
Sappho, spelled (in the dialect spoken by the poet) Psappho, (born c. 610, Lesbos, Greece — died c. 570 BCE). A lyric poet greatly admired in all ages for the beauty of her writing style.
Her language contains elements from Aeolic vernacular and poetic tradition, with traces of epic vocabulary familiar to readers of Homer. She has the ability to judge critically her own ecstasies and grief, and her emotions lose nothing of their force by being recollected in tranquillity.
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