George Meredith

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

Modern Love Vi: It Chanced His Lips Did Meet - Poem by George Meredith

It chanced his lips did meet her forehead cool.
She had no blush, but slanted down her eye.
Shamed nature, then, confesses love can die:
And most she punishes the tender fool
Who will believe what honours her the most!
Dead! is it dead? She has a pulse, and flow
Of tears, the price of blood-drops, as I know,
For whom the midnight sobs around Love's ghost,
Since then I heard her, and so will sob on.
The love is here; it has but changed its aim.
O bitter barren woman! what's the name?
The name, the name, the new name thou hast won?
Behold me striking the world's coward stroke!
That will I not do, though the sting is dire.
Beneath the surface this, while by the fire
They sat, she laughing at a quiet joke.

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Read poems about / on: believe, woman, nature, fire, world, love, change, women

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

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