George Meredith (Джордж Мередит)

By Morning Twilight

Night, like a dying mother,
Eyes her young offspring, Day.
The birds are dreamily piping.
And O, my love, my darling!
The night is life ebb'd away:
Away beyond our reach!
A sea that has cast us pale on the beach;
Weeds with the weeds and the pebbles
That hear the lone tamarisk rooted in sand
Sway
With the song of the sea to the land. 

1. Modern Love. Sonnet 23. 'Tis Christmas Weather
2. My Theme
3. Angela Burdett-Coutts
4. Modern Love. Sonnet 27. Distraction is the Panacea, Sir!
5. Modern Love. Sonnet 22. What May the Woman Labour to Confess?

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