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Self-preservation, nature's first great law, all the creatures, except man, doth awe.

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
Great
Creatures
Men
Except
Law
Fear
Nature
Firsts
Doth
Self
Awe
First
Preservation

More quotes by Andrew Marvell

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The world in all doth but two nations bear- The good, the bad and these mixed everywhere.
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How fit he is to sway That can so well obey.
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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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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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As lines, so loves oblique, may well Themselves in every angle greet But ours, so truly parallel, Though infinite, can never meet.
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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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This indigested vomit of the Sea,Fell to the Dutch by Just Propriety.
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Among the blind the one-eyed blinkard reigns
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Had we but world enough, and time, this coyness, lady, were no crime.
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Annihilating all that's made, To a green thought in a green shade.
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Music, the mosaic of the air.
Andrew Marvell
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Let us roll all our strength, and all Our sweetness, up into one ball: And tear our pleasures with rough strife, Through the iron gates of life. Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.
Andrew Marvell
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But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near.
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Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run
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Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide.
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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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My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow.
Andrew Marvell
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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.
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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Ye country comets, that portend No war, nor prince's funeral, Shining unto no higher end Than to presage the grasses fall. . . .
Andrew Marvell