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
Littles
Overgrown
Little
Lilies
Would
Roses
Wilderness
Rose
Guess
Garden
Flower

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Among the blind the one-eyed blinkard reigns
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And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.
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And all the way, to guide their chime, With falling oars they kept their time.
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How fit he is to sway That can so well obey.
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Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.
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What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head.
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Had it lived long, is would have been Lilies without, roses within.
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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.
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The grave's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace.
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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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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.
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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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Annihilating all that's made, To a green thought in a green shade.
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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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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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Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run
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Self-preservation, nature's first great law, all the creatures, except man, doth awe.
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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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Had we but world enough, and time, this coyness, lady, were no crime.
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Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide.
Andrew Marvell