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And all the way, to guide their chime, With falling oars they kept their time.
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
Falling
Kept
Oars
Chime
Fall
Oar
Way
Chimes
Time
Rowing
Guide
Guides
More quotes by Andrew Marvell
Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run
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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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The grave's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace.
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My love is of a birth as rare As 'tis, for object, strange and high It was begotten by Despair Upon Impossibility.
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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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So much one man can do that does both act and know.
Andrew Marvell
And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.
Andrew Marvell
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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But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near.
Andrew Marvell
Annihilating all that's made, To a green thought in a green shade.
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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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Had it lived long, is would have been Lilies without, roses within.
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Had we but world enough, and time, this coyness, lady, were no crime.
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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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The world in all doth but two nations bear- The good, the bad and these mixed everywhere.
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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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Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.
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He nothing common did, or mean, / Upon that memorable scene, / But with his keener eye / The axe's edge did try.
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Among the blind the one-eyed blinkard reigns
Andrew Marvell