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LXXXVII

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Hadst thou, with all thy loveliness, been true,

Had I, with all my tenderness, been strong,

We had not made this ruin out of life,

This desolation in a world of joy,

My poor Gorgo. 5

Yet even the high gods at times do err;

Be therefore thou not overcome with woe,

But dedicate anew to greater love

An equal heart, and be thy radiant self

Once more, Gorgo. 10

Sapphic Classics

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