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Had we but world enough, and time, this coyness, lady, were no crime.

Andrew Marvell

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Andrew Marvell
Age: 57 †
Born: 1621
Born: March 31
Died: 1678
Died: August 16
Poet
Politician
Satirist
Writer
Andrew Marvell
World
Rubies
Lady
Crime
Enough
Time

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How fit he is to sway That can so well obey.
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This indigested vomit of the Sea,Fell to the Dutch by Just Propriety.
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But Fate does iron wedges drive, And always crowds itself betwixt.
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Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.
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How vainly men themselves amaze, / To win the palm, the oak, or bays / And their incessant labours see / Crowned from some single herb or tree.
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So much one man can do that does both act and know.
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How vainly men themselves amaze To win the palm, the oak, or bays And their uncessant labours see Crown'd from some single herb or tree. Whose short and narrow verged shade Does prudently their toils upbraid While all flow'rs and all trees do close To weave the garlands of repose.
Andrew Marvell
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But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near.
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And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.
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My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow.
Andrew Marvell
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Though I carry always some ill-nature about me, yet it is, I hope, no more than is in this world necessary for a preservative.
Andrew Marvell
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Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run
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The grave's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace.
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Art indeed is long, but life is short.
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I have a garden of my own, But so with roses overgrown, And lilies, that you would it guess To be a little wilderness.
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Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide.
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Twas beyond a mortal's share To wander solitary there: Two paradises 'twere in one To live in paradise alone.
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He nothing common did, or mean, / Upon that memorable scene, / But with his keener eye / The axe's edge did try.
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No white nor red was ever seen So am'rous as this lovely green. Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, Cut in these trees their mistress' name. Little, alas, they know or heed How far these beauties hers exceed! Fair trees! where s'e'er your barks I wound, No name shall but your own be found.
Andrew Marvell
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Now let us sport us while we may And now, like amorous birds of prey, Rather at once our time devour, Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
Andrew Marvell