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O
ET me be in loving nice,
Dainty, fine, and o’er precise,
That I may charm my charmàd
As tho’ I felt a secret
To lose what never can be lost,—Her faith who still delights me most!
So shall I be more than true,
Ever in my ageing new.
So dull habit shall not
Wrongly call’d Fidelity.
Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
Mary Elizabeth Coleridge (23 September 1861 – 25 August 1907) was a British novelist and poet who also wrote essays and reviews.
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On alien ground, breathing an alien air, A Roman stood, far from his ancient home, And gazing, murmured,Ah, the hills are fair, But not the hills of Rome
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ER of God no lady thou: Common woman of common Our Lady ladies call thee now, But Christ was never of gentle birth; A common man of the common earth For God’s ways are not as our ways: The noblest lady in the
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Country roads are yellow and brown We mend the roads in London town Never a hansom dare come nigh, Never a cart goes rolling by An unwonted silence steals In between the turning wheels
