Sappho and Phaon: Sonnet XIII

BRING, bring, to deck my brow, ye sylvan girls,
A roseate wreath ; nor for my waving hair
The costly band of studded gems prepare,
Of sparkling chrysolite or orient pearls :
Love o'er my head his canopy unfurls,
His purple pinions fan the whisp'ring air ;
Mocking the golden sandal, rich and rare,
Beneath my feet the fragrant woodbine curls.
Bring the thin robe, to fold about my breast,
White as the downy swan ; while round my waist
Let leaves of glossy myrtle bind the vest,
Not idly gay, but elegantly chaste !
Love scorns the nymph in wanton trappings drest
And charms the most concealed, are doubly grac'd.