When I Would Image

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Title:     When I Would Image
Author: George Meredith [More Titles by Meredith]

When I would image her features,
Comes up a shrouded head:
I touch the outlines, shrinking;
She seems of the wandering dead.

But when love asks for nothing,
And lies on his bed of snow,
The face slips under my eyelids,
All in its living glow.

Like a dark cathedral city,
Whose spires, and domes, and towers
Quiver in violet lightnings,
My soul basks on for hours.

[The end]
George Meredith's poem: When I Would Image

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