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George Meredith (Джордж Мередит)


Modern Love. Sonnet 19. No State is Enviable


No state is enviable. To the luck alone
Of some few favoured men I would put claim.
I bleed, but her who wounds I will not blame.
Have I not felt her heart as 'twere my own
Beat thro' me? could I hurt her? heaven and hell!
But I could hurt her cruelly! Can I let
My Love's old time-piece to another set,
Swear it can't stop, and must for ever swell?
Sure, that's one way Love drifts into the mart
Where goat-legged buyers throng. I see not plain: --
My meaning is, it must not be again.
Great God! the maddest gambler throws his heart.
If any state be enviable on earth,
'Tis yon born idiot's, who, as days go by,
Still rubs his hands before him, like a fly,
In a queer sort of meditative mirth.



George Meredith's other poems:
  1. The Call
  2. Modern Love. Sonnet 8. Yet it was Plain She Struggled, and that Salt
  3. Modern Love. Sonnet 33. In Paris, at the Louvre
  4. Modern Love. Sonnet 35. It is no Vulgar Nature
  5. Modern Love. Sonnet 39. She Yields: my Lady in her Noblest Mood


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