Tag Archives: Sonnet 116

Sonnet XVI from Modern Love

Posted on June 22, 2011 by theleavee

By George Meredith  (1829 – 1909) At dinner, she is hostess, I am host. Went the feast ever cheerfuller? She keeps The Topic over intellectual deeps In buoyancy afloat. They see no ghost. With sparkling surface-eyes we ply the ball: It … Continue reading →

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