{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/sob/sob075.htm","path":"cla/sob/sob075.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/sob/sob075.htm","text":"Alas! if I think of her my throat is parched, my head is drooped, my breasts grow hard and make me ill at case, I tremble and I weep the while I walk.\nIf I see her my heart stops, my hands shake, my feet grow cold and fire mounts in my checks, while my temples pulse sadly on and on.\nIf I touch her I grow mad, my arms stiffen and my knees grow weak. I fall before her and curl up like a woman wont to die.\nI am hurt by everything she says to me. Her love is like a torture, and the passers-by can hear my constant plaint. . . Alas! how can I call her Well-Beloved?","title":"The Songs of Bilitis: II. Elegies At Mytilene: Love","type":"page"}