C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.

Sappho

The moon has set

In a bank of jet

That fringes the Western sky,

The pleiads seven

Have sunk from heaven

And the midnight hurries by;

My hopes are flown

And alas! alone

On my weary couch I lie.

Sweetest mother, I can weave no more to-day,

For thoughts of him come thronging,

Him for whom my heart is longing—

For I know not where my weary fingers stray.

What is beautiful is good, and who is good will soon also be beautiful.