Were I a clumsy poet
I’d compare you to Helen;
Ransack the mythologies
Greek, Chinese and Persian
For a goddess vehement
And slim: one with form as fair.
Yet find none. O,love, you are
Lithe as a Jew peddler
And full of grace. Such lightness
Is in your step, instruments
I keep for the beholder
To prove you walk, not dance.
Merely to touch you is fire
In my head; my hair becomes
A burning bush. When you speak,
Like Moses I am dumb
With marvelling, or like him
I stutter with pride and fear:
I hold, Love, divinity
In my changed face and hair.
(Irving Layton)
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