{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/sob/sob031.htm","path":"cla/sob/sob031.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/sob/sob031.htm","text":"All day my mother has shut me in the women's rooms, together with my sisters whom I loathe, who speak among themselves in lowered voice. In my own little corner, far away, I ply my distaff.\nDistaff dear, since I'm alone with you, 'tis you alone who'll be my confidante. Your worsted wig of white makes you a woman. Hear me.\nIf I were able I should not be here, seated in the shadow of the wall and spinning boredly: I should be lain in violets upon the slopes of Tauros.\nSince he is not as rich as I, my mother will not let him marry me. But let me tell you; either I will die before my wedding day; or he will be the one to lead me out. . .","title":"The Songs of Bilitis: I. Bucolics In Pamphylia: The Distaff","type":"page"}