I shall not die for love of thee

O Woman, shapely as the swan,

Shall I turn wan for looks from thee?

Nay bend those blue love-darting eyes

On men unwise, they wound not me.

Red lips and ripe and rose from soft cheek,

Shall limbs turn weak and colour flee,

And languorous grace and foam white foam

Shall still blood storm because of ye?

Thy slender waist, the cool of gold

In ringlets rolled around thy knee,

Thy scented sighs and looks of flame

They shall not tame my spirit free.

For, Woman, shapely as the swan,

A wary man hath nurtured me;

White neck and arm, bright lip and eye,

I shall not die for love of ye.