Though recognized by famous poet-critics like Hollander and Winters, Greville's genius is little known to most; but it sings through countless lines. Take the power of passages like this: "The error's ugly infinite impression, / Which bears the faithless down to desperation"... (Greville is a religious poet even atheists can love) Or this: "For Love is of the Phoenix-kind, / And burns itself in self-made fire / To breed still new birds in the mind / From ashes of the old desire." Or delicious double-entendres like this: "For Cupid is a meadow-god, / And forceth none to kiss the rod." (You can guess what naughty thing "the rod" suggests.) Greville is a master of density, intensity, rhythmic flow and counterpointing, disorientation, and brilliantly combines the plain and florid styles. One of the most "difficult" Elizabethans, his "gnarled introspection" makes him one of that period's most interesting love poets, as in these lines that Coleridge loved:

"Mad girls must safely love, as they may leave; No man can print a kiss: lines may deceive." And also a poet of estrangement, as in these:

"My age of joy is past, of woes begun, Absence my presence is, strangeness my grace;"

And of psychological complexity, as in his famous poem-parable of Merlin as a child.