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Poem by George Meredith


Modern Love. Sonnet 36. My Lady unto Madam Makes her Bow


My Lady unto Madam makes her bow.
The charm of women is, that even while
You're probed by them for tears, you yet may smile,
Nay, laugh outright, as I have done just now.
The interview was gracious: they anoint
(To me aside) each other with fine praise:
Discriminating compliments they raise,
That hits with wondrous aim on the weak point:
My Lady's nose of Nature might complain.
It is not fashioned aptly to express
Her character of large-browed steadfastness.
But Madam says: Thereof she may be vain!
Now, Madam's faulty feature is a glazed
And inaccessible eye, that has soft fires,
Wide gates, at love-time only. This admires
My Lady. At the two I stand amazed.



George Meredith


George Meredith's other poems:
  1. Modern Love. Sonnet 24. The Misery is Greater, as I Live!
  2. On Como
  3. Empdeocles
  4. Hawarden
  5. Alternation


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