Coventry Patmore

(23 July 1823 - 26 November 1896 / Essex, England)

Coventry Patmore Poems

1. The Toys 1/3/2003
2. Departure 1/3/2003
3. Magna Est Veritas 1/3/2003
4. A Farewell 1/3/2003
5. The Married Lover 1/3/2003
6. The Kiss 1/3/2003
7. Love's Reality 1/3/2003
8. Deliciae Sapientiae De Amore 1/3/2003
9. 'If I Were Dead' 1/4/2003
10. The Foreign Land 1/3/2003
11. Faint Yet Pursuing 1/3/2003
12. The Spirit's Depths 1/3/2003
13. A London Fête 4/14/2010
14. The Revelation 1/3/2003
15. Amelia 4/14/2010
16. Unthrift 1/3/2003
17. Stars And Moon 4/14/2010
18. The After-Glow 4/14/2010
19. The Woodman’s Daughter 4/14/2010
20. A Dream 4/14/2010
21. The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto Ii. 4/14/2010
22. L’allegro 4/14/2010
23. The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto Iii. 4/14/2010
24. A Retrospect 4/14/2010
25. Semele 4/14/2010
26. The Unknown Eros 4/14/2010
27. The Open Secret 4/14/2010
28. Alexander And Lycon 4/14/2010
29. The Year 4/14/2010
30. An Idyll 4/14/2010
31. Olympus 4/14/2010
32. Mignonne 4/14/2010
33. Night And Sleep 4/14/2010
34. The Victories Of Love. Book I 4/14/2010
35. The Wedding Sermon 4/14/2010
36. The Unknown Eros. Book I. 4/14/2010
37. The Angel In The House. Book Ii. The Prologue. 4/14/2010
38. The Azalea 4/14/2010
39. The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto I. 4/14/2010
40. The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto Ix. 4/14/2010
Best Poem of Coventry Patmore

The Toys

My little Son, who look'd from thoughtful eyes
And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise,
Having my law the seventh time disobey'd,
I struck him, and dismiss'd
With hard words and unkiss'd,
—His Mother, who was patient, being dead.
Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep,
I visited his bed,
But found him slumbering deep,
With darken'd eyelids, and their lashes yet
From his late sobbing wet.
And I, with moan,
Kissing away his tears, left others of my own;
For, on a table drawn beside his head,
He had put, within his reach,
A ...

Read the full of The Toys

Unthrift

Ah, wasteful woman, she who may
On her sweet self set her own price,
Knowing men cannot choose but pay,
How she has cheapen'd paradise;
How given for nought her priceless gift,
How spoil'd the bread and spill'd the wine,
Which, spent with due, respective thrift,
Had made brutes men, and men divine.

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