Poems of George Meredith, vol 2 | Page 3

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Poems by George Meredith - Volume 2
TO J. M.
Let Fate or Insufficiency provide
Mean ends for men who what they
are would be:
Penned in their narrow day no change they see
Save
one which strikes the blow to brutes and pride.
Our faith is ours and
comes not on a tide:
And whether Earth's great offspring, by decree,

Must rot if they abjure rapacity,
Not argument but effort shall
decide.
They number many heads in that hard flock:
Trim
swordsmen they push forth: yet try thy steel.
Thou, fighting for poor
humankind, wilt feel
The strength of Roland in thy wrist to hew
A
chasm sheer into the barrier rock,
And bring the army of the faithful
through.
LINES TO A FRIEND VISITING AMERICA
I
Now farewell to you! you are
One of my dearest, whom I trust:

Now follow you the Western star,
And cast the old world off as dust.
II
From many friends adieu! adieu!
The quick heart of the word therein.

Much that we hope for hangs with you:
We lose you, but we lose
to win.

III
The beggar-king, November, frets:
His tatters rich with Indian dyes

Goes hugging: we our season's debts
Pay calmly, of the Spring
forewise.
IV
We send our worthiest; can no less,
If we would now be read aright, -

To that great people who may bless
Or curse mankind: they have
the might.
V
The proudest seasons find their graves,
And we, who would not be
wooed, must court.
We have let the blunderers and the waves

Divide us, and the devil had sport.
VI
The blunderers and the waves no more
Shall sever kindred sending
forth
Their worthiest from shore to shore
For welcome, bent to
prove their worth.
VII
Go you and such as you afloat,
Our lost kinsfellowship to revive.

The battle of the antidote
Is tough, though silent: may you thrive!
VIII
I, when in this North wind I see
The straining red woods blown awry,

Feel shuddering like the winter tree,
All vein and artery on cold
sky.
IX

The leaf that clothed me is torn away;
My friend is as a flying seed.

Ay, true; to bring replenished day
Light ebbs, but I am bare, and
bleed.
X
What husky habitations seem
These comfortable sayings! they fell,

In some rich year become a dream:-
So cries my heart, the infidel! . . .
XI
Oh! for the strenuous mind in quest,
Arabian visions could not vie

With those broad wonders of the West,
And would I bid you stay?
Not I!
XII
The strange experimental land
Where men continually dare take

Niagara leaps;--unshattered stand
'Twixt fall and fall;--for conscience'
sake,
XIII
Drive onward like a flood's increase; -
Fresh rapids and abysms
engage; -
(We live--we die) scorn fireside peace,
And, as a garment,
put on rage,
XIV
Rather than bear God's reprimand,
By rearing on a full fat soil

Concrete of sin and sloth;--this land,
You will observe it coil in coil.
XV
The land has been discover'd long,
The people we have yet to know;

Themselves they know not, save that strong
For good and evil still
they grow.

XVI
Nor know they us. Yea, well enough
In that inveterate machine

Through which we speak the printed stuff
Daily, with voice most
hugeous, mien
XVII
Tremendous:- as a lion's show
The grand menagerie paintings hide:

Hear the drum beat, the trombones blow!
The poor old Lion lies
inside! . . .
XVIII
It is not England that they hear,
But mighty Mammon's pipers, trained

To trumpet out his moods, and stir
His sluggish soul: HER voice is
chained:
XIX
Almost her spirit seems moribund!
O teach them, 'tis not she displays

The panic of a purse rotund,
Eternal dread of evil days, -
XX
That haunting spectre of success
Which shows a heart sunk low in the
girths:
Not England answers nobleness, -
'Live for thyself: thou art
not earth's.'
XXI
Not she, when struggling manhood tries
For freedom, air, a
hopefuller fate,
Points out the planet, Compromise,
And shakes a
mild reproving pate:
XXII

Says never: 'I am well at ease,
My sneers upon the weak I shed:
The
strong have my cajoleries:
And those beneath my feet I tread.'
XXIII
Nay, but 'tis said for her, great Lord!
The misery's there! The
shameless one
Adjures mankind to sheathe the sword,
Herself not
yielding what it won:-
XXIV
Her sermon at cock-crow doth preach,
On sweet Prosperity--or greed.

'Lo! as the beasts feed, each for each,
God's blessings let us take,
and feed!'
XXV
Ungrateful creatures crave a part -
She tells them firmly she is full;

Lost sheared sheep hurt her tender heart
With bleating, stops her ears
with wool:-
XXVI
Seized