George Meredith

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

George Meredith Poems

121. Continued - Iii 4/14/2010
122. Modern Love Xxi: We Three Are 1/3/2003
123. The Point Of Taste 4/15/2010
124. The Riddle For Men 4/15/2010
125. The Beggar's Soliloquy 4/15/2010
126. The Burden Of Strength 4/15/2010
127. Modern Love Xxxvii: Along The Garden Terrace 1/3/2003
128. Cassandra 4/14/2010
129. The Call 4/15/2010
130. The Poetry Of Spenser 4/15/2010
131. The Promise In Disturbance 4/15/2010
132. The Patriot Engineer 4/15/2010
133. The Poetry Of Keats 4/15/2010
134. Outside The Crowd 4/15/2010
135. Phantasy 4/15/2010
136. Poetry 4/15/2010
137. Song (Untitled #6) 4/15/2010
138. Penetration And Trust 4/15/2010
139. On Como 4/15/2010
140. Mother To Babe 4/15/2010
141. Paris And Diomedes 4/15/2010
142. Pictures Of The Rhine 4/15/2010
143. Phaethon--Attempted In Galliambic Measure 4/15/2010
144. The Poetry Of Shakespeare 4/15/2010
145. The Poetry Of Southey 4/15/2010
146. Atkins 4/14/2010
147. Fragments 4/14/2010
148. Earth's Preference 4/14/2010
149. Daphne 4/14/2010
150. Modern Love Xxv: You Like Not That French Novel 1/3/2003
151. Song (Untitled #3) 4/15/2010
152. The Century Of Garibaldi 4/15/2010
153. October 21, 1905 4/15/2010
154. The Poetry Of Coleridge 4/15/2010
155. Modern Love Xxxvi: My Lady Unto Madam 1/3/2003
156. Modern Love Xxxiv: Madam Would Speak With Me 1/3/2003
157. Modern Love Xxxix: She Yields 1/3/2003
158. Bellerophon 4/14/2010
159. The Poetry Of Milton 4/15/2010
160. The Poetry Of Wordsworth 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,

[Report Error]