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Poem by George Meredith


Modern Love. Sonnet 40. I Bade my Lady Think what She Might Mean


I bade my Lady think what she might mean.
Know I my meaning, I? Can I love one,
And yet be jealous of another? None
Commits such folly. Terrible Love, I ween,
Has might, even dead, half sighing to upheave
The lightless seas of selfishness amain:
Seas that in a man's heart have no rain
To fall and still them. Peace can I achieve
By turning to this fountain-source of woe,
This woman, who's to Love as fire to wood?
She breathed the violet breath of maidenhood
Against my kisses once! but I say, No!
The thing is mocked at! Helplessly afloat,
I know not what I do, whereto I strive,
The dread that my old love may be alive,
Has seized my nursling new love by the throat.



George Meredith


George Meredith's other poems:
  1. Modern Love. Sonnet 38. Give to Imagination
  2. Modern Love. Sonnet 39. She Yields: my Lady in her Noblest Mood
  3. Modern Love. Sonnet 41. How Many a Thing which We Cast to the Ground
  4. On Como
  5. A Later Alexandrian


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