The editors lean on theme, and make strained connections between “Modern Love” and the roadside poems and ballads, but in point of fact none of these ballads or lyrics have gained any lasting literary currency.
Their jocularity is forced, their sublimity is tedious, their prosody is lumpy.
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Sharp is the night, but stars with frost alive Leap off the rim of earth across the dome.
At the age of 14 he was sent to a Moravian School in Neuwied, Germany, where he remained for two years.
He studied law and was apprenticed to a London solicitor, but abandoned that profession for journalism and poetry shortly after marrying Mary Ellen Nicolls, a widowed daughter of Thomas Love Peacock, in 1849. He collected his early writings, first published in periodicals, into Poems, which he managed to publish to some acclaim in 1851.
That’s why you see me by the wayside here, Returning home from transportation. And when Meredith abandons this affectedly “masculine” voice, and writes sentimental lyrics, the result is even more repellent, as when an outcast lover compares himself, in a feeble metaphor, to another outcast, “the winter rose” in the garden that knocks at his window during a storm.
It is no wonder that socio-cultural critics have understandably drawn most of their salient observations from novels and plays.
They waken waves of thoughts that burst to foam: The living throb in me, the dead revive.
Yon mantle clothes us: there, past mortal breath, Life glistens on the river of the death.