Between the fountain and the rill
I passed, and saw the mighty will
To leap at sky; the careless run,
As earth would lead her little son.
Beneath them throbs an urgent well,
That here is play, and there is war.
I know not which had most to tell
Of whence we spring and what we are.
George Meredith (12 February 1828 – 18 May 1909) was an English novelist and poet of the Victorian era. He was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature seven times. His novels are noted for their wit, brilliant dialogue, and aphoristic quality of language.…
View profile & all 23 Poems / Stories'Love is winged for two,
ILast night returning from my twilight walk
As Puritans they prominently wax,And none more kindly gives and takes hard knocks.
On the morning of May,Ere the children had entered my gate
With sagest craft Arachne workedHer web, and at a corner lurked,
