Explore "And if I Die" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
And if I die, because that part of me
Which part alone of me had chance to live, / Chose to be honour's threshing-floor, a sieve
Where right through wrong might make its way, and
If from all taint of indignation, free
Must be my art, and thereby fugitive
From all that threatens it-why-let me give
To moles my dubious immortality. For, should I cancel by one passionate screed
All that in chaste reflection I have writ, / So that again not ever in bright need
A man shall want my verse and reach for it, / I and my verses will be dead indeed,- That which we died to champion, hurt no whit.