Poems by George Meredith
Modern Love XXIII: 'Tis Christmas Weather
... Come, Shame, burn to my soul! and Pride, and Pain-- ...
Modern Love XXIV: The Misery Is Greater
... Pluck out the eyes of pride! thy mouth to mine! ...
Modern Love XXIX: Am I Failing
... Where is the ancient wealth wherewith I clothed ...
Modern Love XXV: You Like Not That French Novel
... Let us see. The actors are, it seems, the usual three: ...
Modern Love XXVII: Distraction is the Panacea
... And does a cheek, like any sea-shell rosed, ...
Modern Love XXVIII: I Must Be Flattered
... And men shall mark you eyeing me, and groan ...
Modern Love XXX: What Are We First
... on whom Pale lies the distant shadow of the tomb, ...
Modern Love XXXI: This Golden Head
... Of this! 'Tis ordered for the world's increase ...
Modern Love XXXII: Full Faith I Have
... Still frets, though Nature giveth all she can ...
Modern Love XXXIII: In Paris, at the Louvre
... Too serene! The young Pharsalians did not disarray ...
Modern Love XXXIX: She Yields
... The bride of every sense! more sweet than those ...
Modern Love XXXV: It Is No Vulgar Nature
... Must kiss her. 'Well performed!' I said: then she: ...
Modern Love XXXVI: My Lady unto Madam
... You're probed by them for tears, you yet may smile, ...
Modern Love XXXVII: Along the Garden Terrace
... Though here and there grey seniors question Time ...
Modern Love XXXVIII: Give to Imagination
... She killed a thing, and now it's dead, 'tis dear ...
