{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/sob/sob014.htm","path":"cla/sob/sob014.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/sob/sob014.htm","text":"I threw myself weeping into her arms, and for long minutes she felt my warm tears flowing over her shoulder before my anguish allowed me once again to speak:\n\"Alas! I am only a child; the young men will not look at me. When shall I have lovely young breasts like yours, to swell my gown and tempt their kisses?\n\"No one glances with avid eyes when my tunic slips; no one picks up the flower that falls from out my hair; no one tells me that he'll kill me if my lips should know another's.\"\nTenderly she answered me: \"Bilitis, little maid, you cry like a cat in the moonlight and are worried without reason. The most impatient virgins are not those the soonest chosen.\"","title":"The Songs of Bilitis: I. Bucolics In Pamphylia: Impatience","type":"page"}