Quote

As lines, so loves oblique, may well Themselves in every angle greet But ours, so truly parallel, Though infinite, can never meet.

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
May
Parallels
Wells
Angle
Well
Loves
Every
Infinite
Never
Meet
Love
Truly
Oblique
Lines
Greet
Though
Parallel

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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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My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow.
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What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head.
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But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near.
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Among the blind the one-eyed blinkard reigns
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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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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.
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So much one man can do that does both act and know.
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Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.
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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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How could such sweet and wholesome hours be reckoned, but in herbs and flowers?
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Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run
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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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The world in all doth but two nations bear- The good, the bad and these mixed everywhere.
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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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Self-preservation, nature's first great law, all the creatures, except man, doth awe.
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Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide.
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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Had it lived long, is would have been Lilies without, roses within.
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