Quote

I have a garden of my own, But so with roses overgrown, And lilies, that you would it guess To be a little wilderness.

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
Would
Roses
Wilderness
Rose
Guess
Garden
Flower
Littles
Overgrown
Little
Lilies

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Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run
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But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near.
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Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness Lady were no crime. We would sit down, and think which way To walk, and pass our long love's day. Thou by the Indian Ganges'side Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the flood.
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My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow.
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And all the way, to guide their chime, With falling oars they kept their time.
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How could such sweet and wholesome hours be reckoned, but in herbs and flowers?
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Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide.
Andrew Marvell
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Ye country comets, that portend No war, nor prince's funeral, Shining unto no higher end Than to presage the grasses fall. . . .
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My mind was once the true survey Of all these meadows fresh and gay And in the greenness of the grass Did see its hopes as in a glass.
Andrew Marvell
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Therefore the love which us doth bind, But fate so enviously debars, Is the conjunction of the mind, And opposition of the stars.
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What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine The nectarine and curious peach Into my hands themselves do reach Stumbling on melons, as I pass, Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
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Among the blind the one-eyed blinkard reigns
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The grave's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace.
Andrew Marvell
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So much one man can do that does both act and know.
Andrew Marvell
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Had it lived long, is would have been Lilies without, roses within.
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My love is of a birth as rare As 'tis, for object, strange and high It was begotten by Despair Upon Impossibility.
Andrew Marvell
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Like the vain curlings of the watery maze, Which in smooth streams a sinking weight does raise, So Man, declining always, disappears In the weak circles of increasing years And his short tumults of themselves compose, While flowing Time above his head does close.
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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But Fate does iron wedges drive, And always crowds itself betwixt.
Andrew Marvell
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Twas beyond a mortal's share To wander solitary there: Two paradises 'twere in one To live in paradise alone.
Andrew Marvell