George Meredith

(12 February 1828 – 18 May 1909 / Portsmouth, England)

George Meredith Poems

1. The State Of Age 4/15/2010
2. The Teaching Of The Nude 4/15/2010
3. The Three Singers To Young Blood 4/15/2010
4. The Two Masks 4/15/2010
5. The Voyage Of The 'Ophir' 4/15/2010
6. The Warning 4/15/2010
7. The Wild Rose 4/15/2010
8. The Wild Rose And The Snowdrop 4/15/2010
9. The Wisdom Of Eld 4/15/2010
10. The Year's Shreddings 4/15/2010
11. The Young Princess -- A Ballad Of Old Laws Of Love 4/15/2010
12. The Young Usurper 4/15/2010
13. The World's Advance 4/15/2010
14. Time And Sentiment 4/15/2010
15. To Alex. Smith, The 'Glasgow Poet,' On His Sonnet To 'Fame' 4/15/2010
16. The Three Maidens 4/15/2010
17. The Sweet O' The Year 4/15/2010
18. To A Skylark 4/15/2010
19. The Two Blackbirds 4/15/2010
20. The Thrush In February 4/15/2010
21. The Years Had Worn Their Season's Belt 4/15/2010
22. The Woods Of Westermain 4/15/2010
23. The Sleeping City 4/15/2010
24. The Song Of Courtesy 4/15/2010
25. The Song Of Theodolinda 4/15/2010
26. The South-Wester 4/15/2010
27. The Sage Enamoured And The Honest Lady 4/15/2010
28. The Cageing Of Ares 4/15/2010
29. Phoebus With Admetus 1/4/2003
30. To Robin Redbreast 4/15/2010
31. Youth In Age 4/15/2010
32. The Shipwreck Of Idomeneus 4/15/2010
33. To Cardinal Manning 4/15/2010
34. Union In Disseverance 4/15/2010
35. The Youthful Quest 4/15/2010
36. To A Friend Lost (Tom Taylor) 4/15/2010
37. Whimper Of Sympathy 4/15/2010
38. Wind On The Lyre 4/15/2010
39. The Spirit Of Shakespeare 4/15/2010
40. To A Nightingale 4/15/2010
Best Poem of George Meredith

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 ...

Read the full of Modern Love I: By This He Knew She Wept

Love's Grave

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,
And dart their hissing tongues high up the sand:
In hearing of the ocean, and in sight
Of those ribb'd wind-streaks running into white.
If I the death of Love had deeply plann'd,
I never could have made it half so sure,

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