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Poem by George Meredith


Modern Love. Sonnet 48. Their Sense is with their Senses all Mixed in


Their sense is with their senses all mixed in,
Destroyed by subtleties these women are!
More brain, O Lord, more brain! or we shall mar
Utterly this fair garden we might win.
Behold! I looked for peace, and thought it near.
Our inmost hearts had opened, each to each.
We drank the pure daylight of honest speech.
Alas! that was the fatal draught, I fear.
For when of my lost Lady came the word,
This woman, O this agony of flesh!
Jealous devotion bade her break the mesh,
That I might seek that other like a bird.
I do adore the nobleness! despise
The act! She has gone forth, I know not where.
Will the hard world my sentence of her share?
I feel the truth; so let the world surmise. 



George Meredith


George Meredith's other poems:
  1. Modern Love. Sonnet 40. I Bade my Lady Think what She Might Mean
  2. Modern Love. Sonnet 41. How Many a Thing which We Cast to the Ground
  3. On Como
  4. Modern Love. Sonnet 39. She Yields: my Lady in her Noblest Mood
  5. Unknown Fair Faces


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