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

Comments about George Meredith

  • Azad Bongobasi Azad Bongobasi (4/16/2015 2:05:00 AM)

    hello poet, I like your poem. from bangladesh

    1 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
Best Poem of George Meredith

Angela Burdett-Coutts

Long with us, now she leaves us; she has rest
Beneath our sacred sod:
A woman vowed to Good, whom all attest,
The daylight gift of God.

Read the full of Angela Burdett-Coutts

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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