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Twas beyond a mortal's share To wander solitary there: Two paradises 'twere in one To live in paradise alone.

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
Share
Twere
Alone
Twas
Two
Mortal
Live
Solitary
Mortals
Wander
Paradise
Beyond
Paradises

More quotes by Andrew Marvell

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But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near.
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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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The world in all doth but two nations bear- The good, the bad and these mixed everywhere.
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Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide.
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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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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.
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And all the way, to guide their chime, With falling oars they kept their time.
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Among the blind the one-eyed blinkard reigns
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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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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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Art indeed is long, but life is short.
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Self-preservation, nature's first great law, all the creatures, except man, doth awe.
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Had we but world enough, and time, this coyness, lady, were no crime.
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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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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.
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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.
Andrew Marvell
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And now, when I have summed up all my store, Thinking (so I myself deceive) So rich a chaplet thence to weave As never yet the King of Glory wore, Alas! I find the serpent old, That, twining in his speckled breast, About the flowers disguised does fold With wreaths of fame and interest.
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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.
Andrew Marvell
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How fit he is to sway That can so well obey.
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.
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