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What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head.

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
Head
Wondrous
Life
Ripe
Culinary
Apples
Drop
Cooking
Lead
Melons
Food
Clusters

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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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Among the blind the one-eyed blinkard reigns
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How could such sweet and wholesome hours be reckoned, but in herbs and flowers?
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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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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.
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Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide.
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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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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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Art indeed is long, but life is short.
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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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The world in all doth but two nations bear- The good, the bad and these mixed everywhere.
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Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.
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And all the way, to guide their chime, With falling oars they kept their time.
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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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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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And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.
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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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Music, the mosaic of the air.
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Had we but world enough, and time, this coyness, lady, were no crime.
Andrew Marvell
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Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run
Andrew Marvell