George Meredith

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

George Meredith Poems

161. The Invective Of Achilles 4/15/2010
162. Continued 4/14/2010
163. Breath Of The Briar 4/14/2010
164. The Invective Of Achilles--V. 225 4/15/2010
165. The Head Of Bran The Blest 4/15/2010
166. On The Tombstone Of James Christopher Wilson (D. April 11, 1884) In Headley Churchyard, Surrey 4/15/2010
167. The Poetry Of Chaucer 4/15/2010
168. Autumn Even-Song 4/14/2010
169. Il Y A Cent Ans 4/14/2010
170. The Discipline Of Wisdom 4/15/2010
171. Song (Untitled #5) 4/15/2010
172. Earth And The Wedded Woman 4/14/2010
173. Empdeocles 4/14/2010
174. Modern Love Xxviii: I Must Be Flattered 1/3/2003
175. Modern Love Xxxi: This Golden Head 1/3/2003
176. Nature And Life 4/15/2010
177. The Appeasement Of Demeter 4/15/2010
178. The Doe: A Fragment (From Wandering Willie) 4/15/2010
179. The Poetry Of Shelley 4/15/2010
180. The Mares Of The Camargue 4/15/2010
181. Manfred 4/14/2010
182. Modern Love Xxxv: It Is No Vulgar Nature 1/3/2003
183. The Hueless Love 4/15/2010
184. Periander 4/15/2010
185. The Orchard And The Heath 4/15/2010
186. Song In The Songless 1/3/2003
187. The Emperor Frederick Of Our Time 4/15/2010
188. On Hearing The News From Venice 4/15/2010
189. Song--Spring 4/15/2010
190. Melampus 4/14/2010
191. The Nuptials Of Attila 4/15/2010
192. Martin’s Puzzle 4/14/2010
193. The Revolution 4/15/2010
194. Requiem 4/15/2010
195. July 4/14/2010
196. The Longest Day 4/15/2010
197. The Lesson Of Grief 4/15/2010
198. Alsace-Lorraine 4/14/2010
199. Progress 4/15/2010
200. The Labourer 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.
    4 person did not like.
Best Poem of George Meredith

The Lark Ascending

He rises and begins to round,
He drops the silver chain of sound
Of many links without a break,
In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake,
All intervolv’d and spreading wide,
Like water-dimples down a tide
Where ripple ripple overcurls
And eddy into eddy whirls;
A press of hurried notes that run
So fleet they scarce are more than one,
Yet changingly the trills repeat
And linger ringing while they fleet,
Sweet to the quick o’ the ear, and dear
To her beyond the handmaid ear,
Who sits beside our inner springs,
Too often dry for this he brings,
Which ...

Read the full of The Lark Ascending

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]