George Meredith

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

When I Would Imagine - Poem by George Meredith

When I would image her features,
Comes up a shrouded head:
I touch the outlines, shrinking;
She seems of the wandering dead.

But when love asks for nothing,
And lies on his bed of snow,
The face slips under my eyelids,
All in its living glow.

Like a dark cathedral city,
Whose spires, and domes, and towers
Quiver in violet lightnings,
My soul basks on for hours.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 15, 2010



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