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

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How fit he is to sway That can so well obey.
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Music, the mosaic of the air.
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Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, Withdraws into its happiness The mind, that ocean where each kind Does straight its own resemblance find Yet it creates, transcending these, Far other worlds, and other seas Annihilating all that's made To a green thought in a green glade ... Such was that happy garden-state.
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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.
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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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And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.
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So much one man can do that does both act and know.
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The grave's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace.
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This indigested vomit of the Sea,Fell to the Dutch by Just Propriety.
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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.
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What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head.
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My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow.
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Art indeed is long, but life is short.
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Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.
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Had it lived long, is would have been Lilies without, roses within.
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See how the Orient dew, Shed from the bosom of the morn Into the blowing roses, Yet careless of its mansion new For the clear region where 'twas born Round in its self encloses: And in its little globes extent, Frames as it can its native element.
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But Fate does iron wedges drive, And always crowds itself betwixt.
Andrew Marvell
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Had we but world enough, and time, this coyness, lady, were no crime.
Andrew Marvell
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How could such sweet and wholesome hours be reckoned, but in herbs and flowers?
Andrew Marvell
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The world in all doth but two nations bear- The good, the bad and these mixed everywhere.
Andrew Marvell