The misery is greater, as I live! <br />To know her flesh so pure, so keen her sense, <br />That she does penance now for no offence, <br />Save against Love. The less can I forgive! <br />The less can I forgive, though I adore <br />That cruel lovely pallor which surrounds <br />Her footsteps; and the low vibrating sounds <br />That come on me, as from a magic shore. <br />Low are they, but most subtle to find out <br />The shrinking soul. Madam, 'tis understood <br />When women play upon their womanhood; <br />It means, a Season gone. And yet I doubt <br />But I am duped. That nun-like look waylays <br />My fancy. Oh! I do but wait a sign! <br />Pluck out the eyes of pride! thy mouth to mine! <br />Never! though I die thirsting. Go thy ways!<br /><br />George Meredith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/modern-love-xxiv-the-misery-is-greater/
