Poem by George Meredith

Modern Love. Sonnet 32. Full Faith I Have She Holds that Rarest Gift

Full faith I have she holds that rarest gift
To beauty, Common Sense. To see her lie
With her fair visage an inverted sky
Bloom-covered, while the underlids uplift,
Would almost wreck the faith; but when her mouth
(Can it kiss sweetly? sweetly!) would address
The inner me that thirsts for her no less,
And has so long been languishing in drouth,
I feel that I am matched; that I am man!
One restless corner of my heart or head,
That holds a dying something never dead,
Still frets, though Nature giveth all she can.
It means, that woman is not, I opine,
Her sex's antidote. Who seeks the asp
For serpent's bites? 'Twould calm me could I clasp
Shrieking Bacchantes with their souls of wine!

1. Mother to Babe
2. Modern Love. Sonnet 38. Give to Imagination
3. Modern Love. Sonnet 41. How Many a Thing which We Cast to the Ground
4. Modern Love. Sonnet 23. 'Tis Christmas Weather
5. Angela Burdett-Coutts

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