For thee, I shall not die,
Woman of high fame and name;
Foolish men thou mayest slay
I and they are not the same.
Why should I expire
For the fire of an eye,
Slender waist or swan-like limb,
Is't for them that I should die?
The round breasts, the fresh skin,
Cheeks crimson, hair so long and rich;
Indeed, indeed, I shall not die,
Please God, not I, for any such.
The golden hair, the forehead thin,
The chaste mien, the gracious ease,
The rounded heel, the languid tone,--
Fools alone find death from these.
Thy sharp wit, thy perfect calm,
Thy thin palm like foam o' the sea;
Thy white neck, thy blue eye,
I shall not die for thee.
Woman, graceful as the swan,
A wise man did nurture me.
Little palm, white neck, bright eye,
I shall not die for ye.
_Amy Levy_
Amy Levy, a singularly gifted Jewess, was born at Clapham, in 1861. A
fiery young poet, she burdened her own intensity with the sorrows of
her race. She wrote one novel, _Reuben Sachs_, and two volumes of
poetry--the more distinctive of the two being half-pathetically and
half-ironically entitled _A Minor Poet_ (1884). After several years of
brooding introspection, she committed suicide in 1889 at the age of
28.