Love is winged for two,
In the worst he weathers,
When their hearts are tied;
But if they divide,
O too true!
Cracks a globe, and feathers, feathers,
Feathers all the ground bestrew.
I was breast of morning sea,
Rosy plume on forest dun,
I the laugh in rainy fleeces,
While with me
She made one.
Now must we pick up our pieces,
For that then so winged were we.
More verses by George Meredith
- Ireland
- Modern Love Xix: No State Is Enviable
- Modern Love Xlii: I Am To Follow Her
- Modern Love Xliii: Mark Where The Pressing Wind
- Modern Love Xl: I Bade My Lady Think