Published on Academy of American Poets (https://poets.org)


Modern Love: XXXVIII

Give to imagination some pure light
In human form to fix it, or you shame
The devils with that hideous human game:—
Imagination  urging appetite!
Thus fallen have earth’s greatest Gogmagogs,
Who dazzle us, whom we cannot revere:
Imagination is the charioteer
That, in default of better, drives the hogs.
So, therefore, my dear Lady, let me love!
My soul is arrowy to the light in you.
You know me that I never can renew
The bond that woman broke: what would you have?
’T is Love or Vileness! not a choice between,
Save petrifaction! What does Pity here?
She killed a thing, and now it’s dead, ’t is dear.
Oh, when you counsel me, think what you mean!

Credit


This poem is in the public domain.

Author


George Meredith

George Meredith was born in Portsmouth, England, on February 12, 1828.

Date Published: 1909-01-01

Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/modern-love-xxxviii