George Meredith

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

George Meredith Poems

81. Manfred 4/14/2010
82. Margaret's Bridal Eve 4/14/2010
83. Marian 4/14/2010
84. Marshalling Of The Achaians 4/14/2010
85. Martin’s Puzzle 4/14/2010
86. Meditation Under Stars 4/14/2010
87. Melampus 4/14/2010
88. Men And Man 4/15/2010
89. Milton--December 9, 1608: December 9, 1908 4/15/2010
90. Modern Love 4/15/2010
91. Modern Love I: By This He Knew She Wept 1/3/2003
92. Modern Love Ii: It Ended, And The Morrow 1/3/2003
93. Modern Love Iii: This Was The Woman 1/3/2003
94. Modern Love Iv: All Other Joys Of Life 1/3/2003
95. Modern Love Ix: He Felt The Wild Beast 1/3/2003
96. Modern Love L: Thus Piteously Love 1/3/2003
97. Modern Love V: A Message From Her 1/3/2003
98. Modern Love Vi: It Chanced His Lips Did Meet 1/3/2003
99. Modern Love Vii: She Issues Radiant 1/3/2003
100. Modern Love Viii: Yet It Was Plain She Struggled 1/3/2003
101. Modern Love X: But Where Began The Change 1/3/2003
102. Modern Love Xi: Out In The Yellow Meadows 1/3/2003
103. Modern Love Xii: Not Solely That The Future 1/3/2003
104. Modern Love Xiii: I Play For Seasons, Not Eternities 1/3/2003
105. Modern Love Xiv: What Soul Would Bargain 1/3/2003
106. Modern Love Xix: No State Is Enviable 1/3/2003
107. Modern Love Xl: I Bade My Lady Think 1/3/2003
108. Modern Love Xli: How Many A Thing 1/3/2003
109. Modern Love Xlii: I Am To Follow Her 1/3/2003
110. Modern Love Xliii: Mark Where The Pressing Wind 1/3/2003
111. Modern Love Xliv: They Say That Pity 1/3/2003
112. Modern Love Xlix: He Found Her 1/3/2003
113. Modern Love Xlv: It Is The Season 1/3/2003
114. Modern Love Xlvi: At Last We Parley 1/3/2003
115. Modern Love Xlvii: We Saw The Swallows 1/3/2003
116. Modern Love Xlviii: Their Sense 1/3/2003
117. Modern Love Xv: I Think She Sleeps 1/3/2003
118. Modern Love Xvi: In Our Old Shipwrecked Days 1/3/2003
119. Modern Love Xvii: At Dinner She Is Hostess 1/3/2003
120. Modern Love Xviii: Here Jack And Tom 1/3/2003
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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