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Best Famous Coventry Patmore Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Coventry Patmore poems. This is a select list of the best famous Coventry Patmore poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Coventry Patmore poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Coventry Patmore poems.

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by Coventry Patmore | |

If I were dead

 'IF I were dead, you'd sometimes say, Poor Child!' 
The dear lips quiver'd as they spake, 
And the tears brake 
From eyes which, not to grieve me, brightly smiled.
Poor Child, poor Child! I seem to hear your laugh, your talk, your song.
It is not true that Love will do no wrong.
Poor Child! And did you think, when you so cried and smiled, How I, in lonely nights, should lie awake, And of those words your full avengers make? Poor Child, poor Child! And now, unless it be That sweet amends thrice told are come to thee, O God, have Thou no mercy upon me! Poor Child!


by Coventry Patmore | |

The Revelation

 An idle poet, here and there,
Looks around him; but, for all the rest,
The world, unfathomably fair,
Is duller than a witling's jest.
Love wakes men, once a lifetime each; They lift their heavy lids, and look; And, lo, what one sweet page can teach, They read with joy, then shut the book.
And some give thanks, and some blaspheme And most forget; but, either way, That and the Child's unheeded dream Is all the light of all their day.


by Coventry Patmore | |

The Spirits Depths

 Not in the crisis of events
Of compass'd hopes, or fears fulfill'd,
Or acts of gravest consequence,
Are life's delight and depth reveal'd.
The day of days was not the day; That went before, or was postponed; The night Death took our lamp away Was not the night on which we groan'd.
I drew my bride, beneath the moon, Across my threshold; happy hour! But, ah, the walk that afternoon We saw the water-flags in flower!


by Coventry Patmore | |

Unthrift

 Ah, wasteful woman, she who may 
On her sweet self set her own price, 
Knowing men cannot choose but pay, 
How she has cheapen'd paradise; 
How given for nought her priceless gift, 
How spoil'd the bread and spill'd the wine, 
Which, spent with due, respective thrift, 
Had made brutes men, and men divine.


by Coventry Patmore | |

Loves Reality

 I walk, I trust, with open eyes; 
I've travelled half my worldly course; 
And in the way behind me lies 
Much vanity and some remorse; 
I've lived to feel how pride may part 
Spirits, tho' matched like hand and glove; 
I've blushed for love's abode, the heart; 
But have not disbelieved in love; 
Nor unto love, sole mortal thing 
Or worth immortal, done the wrong 
To count it, with the rest that sing, 
Unworthy of a serious song; 
And love is my reward: for now, 
When most of dead'ning time complain, 
The myrtle blooms upon my brow, 
Its odour quickens all my brain.


by Coventry Patmore | |

Magna Est Veritas

 Here, in this little Bay, 
Full of tumultuous life and great repose, 
Where, twice a day, 
The purposeless, gay ocean comes and goes, 
Under high cliffs, and far from the huge town, 
I sit me down.
For want of me the world's course will not fail: When all its work is done, the lie shall rot; The truth is great, and shall prevail, When none cares whether it prevail or not.


by Coventry Patmore | |

The Foreign Land

 A woman is a foreign land,
Of which, though there he settle young,
A man will ne'er quite understand
The customs, politics, and tongue.
The foolish hie them post-haste through, See fashions odd, and prospects fair, Learn of the language, "How d'ye do," And go and brag they have been there.
The most for leave to trade apply, For once, at Empire's seat, her heart, Then get what knowledge ear and eye Glean chancewise in the life-long mart.
And certain others, few and fit, Attach them to the Court, and see The Country's best, its accent hit, And partly sound its polity.