George Meredith

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

Wind On The Lyre


That was the chirp of Ariel
You heard, as overhead it flew,
The farther going more to dwell,
And wing our green to wed our blue;
But whether note of joy or knell,
Not his own Father-singer knew;
Nor yet can any mortal tell,
Save only how it shivers through;
The breast of us a sounded shell,
The blood of us a lighted dew.

Submitted: Thursday, April 15, 2010

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