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Poem by George Meredith Modern Love. Sonnet 12. Not Solely that the Future She Destroys Not solely that the Future she destroys, And the fair life which in the distance lies For all men, beckoning out from dim rich skies: Nor that the passing hour's supporting joys Have lost the keen-edged flavour, which begat Distinction in old times, and still should breed Sweet Memory, and Hope, -- earth's modest seed, And heaven's high-prompting: Not that the world is flat Since that soft-luring creature I embraced, Among the children of Illusion went: Methinks with all this loss I were content, If the mad Past, on which my foot is based, Were firm, or might be blotted: but the whole Of life is mixed: the mocking Past will stay: And if I drink oblivion of a day, So shorten I the stature of my soul. George Meredith George Meredith's other poems:
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