Author George Meredith What makes it hard to understandThe wailings of this modern fry?We two have dwelt in Skylarkland,And that must be the simple why.We fell when time was ripe, but fellSo soft we neither knew of painAs leave of sun the pimpernelTakes humbly ere his cloak is rain. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments