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George Meredith (Джордж Мередит)


Modern Love. Sonnet 44. They Say, that Pity in Love's Service Dwells


They say, that Pity in Love's service dwells,
A porter at the rosy temple's gate,
I missed him going: but it s my fate
To come upon him now beside his wells:
Whereby I know that I Love's temple leave,
And that the purple doors have closed behind.
Poor soul! if in the early days unkind,
Thy power to sting had been but power to grieve,
We now might with an equal spirit meet,
And not be matched like innocence and vice.
She for the Temple's worship has paid price,
And takes the coin of Pity as a cheat.
She sees through simulation to the bone:
What's best in her impels her to the worst:
Never, she cries, shall Pity soothe Love's thirst,
Or foul hypocrisy for truth atone! 



George Meredith's other poems:
  1. Modern Love. Sonnet 38. Give to Imagination
  2. Modern Love. Sonnet 40. I Bade my Lady Think what She Might Mean
  3. Modern Love. Sonnet 16. In our Old Shipwrecked Days
  4. Unknown Fair Faces
  5. My Theme


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