Coventry Patmore
Coventry Patmore
Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmorewas an English poet and critic best known for The Angel in the House, his narrative poem about an ideal happy marriage...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth23 July 1823
too-much fruition moments
A moment's fruition of a true felicity is enough and eternity not too much.
siege youth courtesy
Ah, whither shall a maiden flee, When a bold youth so swift pursues, And siege of tenderest courtesy, With hope perseverant, still renews!
common said uncommon
Uncommon things must be said in common words.
flower moon water
I drew my bride, beneath the moon,Across my threshold; happy hour!But, ah, the walk that afternoonWe saw the water-flags in flower!
dream long thrive
None thrives for long upon the happiest dream.
lying done world
For want of me the world's course will not fail;When all its work is done the lie shall rot;The truth is great and shall prevailWhen none cares whether it prevail or not.
laughter gnats soul
If we may credit certain hints contained in the lives of the saints, love raises the spirit above the sphere of reverence and worship into one of laughter and dalliance: a sphere in which the soul says: 'Shall I, a gnat which dances in Thy ray, Dare to be reverent?'
asks
They who ask for no sign shall have many.
dream sweet sunshine
The sunshine dreaming upon Salmon's heightIs not so sweet and whiteAs the most heretofore sin-spotted SoulThat darts to its delightStraight from the absolution of a faithful fight.
love-you soul done
Kind souls, you wonder why, love you, When you, you wonder why, love none We love, Fool, for the good we do, Not that which unto us is done!
music kissing light
How light the touches are that kiss the music from the chords of life!
faith believe eye
Great is his faith who dares believe his own eyes.
hatred world may
Let me love Thee so that the honour, riches, and pleasures of the world may seem unworthy even of hatred - may not even be encumbrances.
sweet wine men
Ah, wasteful woman, she who may On her sweet self set her own price, Knowing man cannot choose but pay, How has she cheapened paradise; How given for nought her priceless gift, How spoiled the bread and spilled the wine, Which, spent with due respective thrift, Had made brutes men and men divine.