George Meredith, OM was an English novelist and poet of the Victorian era.
Meredith was born in Portsmouth, England, a son and grandson of naval outfitters. His mother died when he was five. At the age of 14 he was sent to a Moravian School in Neuwied, Germany, where he remained for two years. He read law and was articled as a solicitor, but abandoned that profession for journalism and poetry. He collaborated with Edward Gryffydh Peacock, son of Thomas Love Peacock in publishing a privately circulated literary magazine, the Monthly Observer. He married Edward Peacock's widowed sister Mary Ellen Nicolls in 1849 when he was twenty-one years old and she was ... more »
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George Meredith Poems
Modern Love I: By This He Knew She Wept
By this he knew she wept with waking eyes: That, at his hand's light quiver by her head, The strange low sobs that shook their common bed Were called into her with a sharp surprise,
Lucifer in Starlight
On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose. Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend Above the rolling ball in cloud part screened, Where sinners hugged their spectre of repose.
Modern Love L: Thus Piteously Love
Thus piteously Love closed what he begat: The union of this ever-diverse pair! These two were rapid falcons in a snare, Condemned to do the flitting of the bat.
Modern Love XXVI: Love Ere He Bleeds
Love ere he bleeds, an eagle in high skies, Has earth beneath his wings: from reddened eve He views the rosy dawn. In vain they weave The fatal web below while far he flies.
MARK where the pressing wind shoots javelin-like, Its skeleton shadow on the broad-back'd wave! Here is a fitting spot to dig Love's grave; Here where the ponderous breakers plunge and strike,
Modern Love V: A Message from Her
A message from her set his brain aflame. A world of household matters filled her mind, Wherein he saw hypocrisy designed: She treated him as something that is tame,
Dirge in Woods
A wind sways the pines, And below Not a breath of wild air; Still as the mosses that glow
The Lark Ascending
He rises and begins to round, He drops the silver chain of sound Of many links without a break, In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake,
Modern Love II: It Ended, and the Morrow
It ended, and the morrow brought the task. Her eyes were guilty gates, that let him in By shutting all too zealous for their sin: Each sucked a secret, and each wore a mask.
Love in the Valley
Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward, Couched with her arms behind her golden head, Knees and tresses folded to slip and ripple idly, Lies my young love sleeping in the shade.
Modern Love III: This Was the Woman
This was the woman; what now of the man? But pass him. If he comes beneath a heel, He shall be crushed until he cannot feel, Or, being callous, haply till he can.
Modern Love XXIII: 'Tis Christmas Weathe...
'Tis Christmas weather, and a country house Receives us: rooms are full: we can but get An attic-crib. Such lovers will not fret At that, it is half-said. The great carouse
Modern Love IV: All Other Joys of Life
All other joys of life he strove to warm, And magnify, and catch them to his lip: But they had suffered shipwreck with the ship, And gazed upon him sallow from the storm.
Modern Love XXXIII: In Paris, at the Lou...
'In Paris, at the Louvre, there have I seen The sumptuously-feathered angel pierce Prone Lucifer, descending. Looked he fierce, Showing the fight a fair one? Too serene!
Quotationsmore quotations »
''Cynicism is intellectual dandyism without the coxcomb's feathers.''George Meredith (1828-1909), British author. Clara Middleton, quoting Mr. Whitford, in The Egoist, ch. 7 (1879). Clara adds: "It seems to me that ...
''Sentimentalists are they who seek to enjoy without incurring the Immense Debtorship for a thing done.''George Meredith (1828-1909), British author. Sir Austin Feverel, quoting the "Pilgrim's Scrip," in "Of the Spring Primrose and the Autumnal," ch. 24, ...
''I expect that Woman will be the last thing civilised by Man.''George Meredith (1828-1909), British author. The Ordeal of Richard Feverel, ch. 1 (1859). An aphorism from the "The Pilgrim's Scrip."
Comments about George Meredith
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Modern Love I: By This He Knew She Wept
By this he knew she wept with waking eyes:
That, at his hand's light quiver by her head,
The strange low sobs that shook their common bed
Were called into her with a sharp surprise,
And strangled mute, like little gaping snakes,
Dreadfully venomous to him. She lay
Stone-still, and the long darkness flowed away
With muffled pulses. Then, as midnight makes
Her giant heart of Memory and Tears
Drink the pale drug of silence, and so beat
Sleep's heavy measure, they from head to feet
Were moveless, looking through their dead black years,
By vain regret scrawled ...