No greater Hymn on this day than Sappho’s Hymn to Aphrodite. and to top it off, translated by Edith Wharton.
Immortal Aphrodite of the broidered throne, daughter of Zeus, weaver of wiles,
I pray thee break not my spirit with anguish and distress, O Queen.
But come hither, if ever before thou didst hear my voice afar,
and listen, and leaving thy father’s golden house camest with chariot yoked,
and fair fleet sparrows drew thee, flapping fast their wings around the dark earth,
from heaven through mid sky.
Quickly arrived they; and thou, blessed one,
smiling with immortal countenance, didst ask What now is befallen me,
and Why now I call, and What I in my mad heart most desire to see. ‘
What Beauty now wouldst thou draw to love thee?
Who wrongs thee, Sappho?
For even if she flies she shall soon follow,
and if she rejects gifts shall yet give, and if she loves not shall soon love,
Come, I pray thee, now too, and release me from cruel cares;
and all that my heart desires to accomplish, accomplish thou,
and be thyself my ally.