Posted by: W. E. Poplaski | January 31, 2009

POEM OF THE DAY: Love’s Grave

George Meredith (1828 – 1909).


Love’s Grave


Mark where the pressing wind shoots javelin-like,  

Its skeleton shadow on the broad-back’d wave!  

Here is a fitting spot to dig Love’s grave;  

Here where the ponderous breakers plunge and strike,  

And dart their hissing tongues high up the sand:                      5

In hearing of the ocean, and in sight  

Of those ribb’d wind-streaks running into white.  

If I the death of Love had deeply plann’d,  

I never could have made it half so sure,  

As by the unblest kisses which upbraid                                       10

The full-waked sense; or failing that, degrade!  

‘Tis morning: but no morning can restore  

What we have forfeited. I see no sin:  

The wrong is mix’d. In tragic life, God wot,  

No villain need be! Passions spin the plot:                                  15

We are betray’d by what is false within.   



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