George Meredith

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

Modern Love Xlviii: Their Sense - Poem by George Meredith

Their sense is with their senses all mixed in,
Destroyed by subleties these women are!
More brain, O Lord, more brain! or we shall mar
Utterly this fair garden we might win.
Behold! I looked for peace, and thought it near.
Our inmost hearts had opened, each to each.
We drank the pure daylight of honest speech.
Alas I that was the fatal draught, I fear.
For when of my lost Lady came the word,
This woman, O this agony of flesh!
Jealous devotion bade her break the mesh,
That I might seek that other like a bird.
I do adore the nobleness! despise
The act! She has gone forth, I know not where.
Will the hard world my sentience of her share?
I feel the truth; so let the world surmise.


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Read poems about / on: women, woman, truth, peace, fear, lost, world



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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