'Tis Christmas weather, and a country house
Receives us: rooms are full: we can but get
Such lovers will not fret
At that, it is half-said.
The great carouse
Knocks hard upon the midnight's hollow door,
But when I knock at hers, I see the pit.
Why did I come here in that dullard fit?
I enter, and lie couched upon the floor.
Passing, I caught the coverlet's quick beat:--
Come, Shame, burn to my soul! and Pride, and Pain--
Foul demons that have tortured me, enchain!
Out in the freezing darkness the lambs bleat.
The small bird stiffens in the low starlight.
I know not how, but shuddering as I slept,
I dreamed a banished angel to me crept:
My feet were nourished on her breasts all night.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
Top George Meredith Poems
Analysis and Comments on Modern Love XXIII: Tis Christmas Weather
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Modern Love XXIII: Tis Christmas Weather here.
Commenting has been disabled for now.