I have been reading (and loving a lot) Square Haunting: Five Women, Freedom and London Between the War by Francesca Wade. Last week I featured a poem by the first woman, H. D. and I had hoped to do the same for each of the five woman. But Dorothy L. Sayers poetry was way too religious for my tastes and Jane Harrison does not appear to have written any (although she probably translated some along the way). Harrison was accused of ‘advocating “free love” among Newnham women by teaching Sappho‘ so I decided that a poem attributed to Sappho would be the perfect way to celebrate this week’s chapters.
I Like the sweet apple which reddens upon the topmost bough, Atop on the topmost twig, — which the pluckers forgot, somehow, — Forget it not, nay; but got it not, for none could get it till now. II Like the wild hyacinth flower which on the hills is found, Which the passing feet of the shepherds for ever tear and wound, Until the purple blossom is trodden in the ground. One Girl: Translated by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
This post is part of A Poem For a Thursday with Jennifer @Holds Upon Happiness.