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Poem by George Meredith Modern Love. Sonnet 16. In our Old Shipwrecked Days In our old shipwrecked days there was an hour When, in the firelight steadily aglow, Joined slackly, we beheld the red chasm grow Among the clicking coals. Our library-bower That eve was left to us; and hushed we sat As lovers to whom Time is whispering. From sudden-opened doors we heard them sing; The nodding elders mixed good wine with chat. Well knew we that Life's greatest treasure lay With us, and of it was our talk. "Ah, yes! Love dies!" I said; I never thought it less. She yearned to me that sentence to unsay. Then when the fire domed blackening, I found Her cheek was salt against my kiss, and swift Up the sharp scale of sobs her breast did lift-- Now am I haunted by that taste! that sound. George Meredith George Meredith's other poems:
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