George Meredith (Джордж Мередит)

Modern Love. Sonnet 24. The Misery is Greater, as I Live!

The misery is greater, as I live!
To know her flesh so pure, so keen her sense,
That she does penance now for no offence,
Save against Love. The less can I forgive!
The less can I forgive, though I adore
That cruel lovely pallor which surrounds
Her footsteps; and the low vibrating sounds
That come on me, as from a magic shore.
Low are they, but most subtle to find out
The shrinking soul. Madam, 'tis understood
When women play upon their womanhood;
It means, a Season gone. And yet I doubt
But I am duped. That nun-like look waylays
My fancy. Oh! I do but wait a sign!
Pluck out the eyes of pride! thy mouth to mine!
Never! though I die thirsting. Go thy ways! 

1. Modern Love. Sonnet 31. This Golden Head has Wit in it
2. Modern Love. Sonnet 27. Distraction is the Panacea, Sir!
3. Angela Burdett-Coutts
4. At the Funeral
5. Modern Love. Sonnet 45. It is the Season of the Sweet Wild Rose

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