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Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide.

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
Boughs
Glide
Vests
Casting
Aside
Doe
Body
Soul
Vest

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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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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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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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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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.
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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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.
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This indigested vomit of the Sea,Fell to the Dutch by Just Propriety.
Andrew Marvell
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Had it lived long, is would have been Lilies without, roses within.
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Self-preservation, nature's first great law, all the creatures, except man, doth awe.
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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
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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.
Andrew Marvell
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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.
Andrew Marvell
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Music, the mosaic of the air.
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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Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run
Andrew Marvell
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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.
Andrew Marvell
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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.
Andrew Marvell
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But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near.
Andrew Marvell