Author George Meredith [2] When she laughs there is a glitter as of morning before me, morning and all its dews; and it is as if beads of ivory were flashing from the fresh red of a sliced pomegranate. Tags Short Poems 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