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Andrew Marvell Love Poetry
To His Coy Mistress
BY ANDREW MARVELL Had we but world enough and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down, and think which way To walk, and pass our long loves day. Thou by the Indian Ganges side Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the flood, And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews. My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires and more slow; An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze; Two hundred to adore each breast, But thirty thousand to the rest; An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart. For, lady, you deserve this state, Nor would I love at lower rate. But at my back I always hear Times wingd chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity. Thy beauty shall no more be found; Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound My echoing song; then worms shall try That long-preserved virginity, And your quaint honour turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust; The graves a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace. Now therefore, while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew, And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant fires, 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. Let us roll all our strength and all Our sweetness up into one ball, And tear our pleasures with rough strife Thorough the iron gates of life: Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.
The Definition of Love BY ANDREW MARVELL
My love is of a birth as rare As tis for object strange and high; It was begotten by Despair Upon Impossibility.
Magnanimous Despair alone Could show me so divine a thing Where feeble Hope could neer have flown, But vainly flappd its tinsel wing.
And yet I quickly might arrive Where my extended soul is fixt, But Fate does iron wedges drive, And always crowds itself betwixt.
For Fate with jealous eye does see Two perfect loves, nor lets them close; Their union would her ruin be, And her tyrannic powr depose.
And therefore her decrees of steel Us as the distant poles have placd, (Though loves whole world on us doth wheel) Not by themselves to be embracd;
Unless the giddy heaven fall, And earth some new convulsion tear; And, us to join, the world should all Be crampd into a planisphere.
As lines, so loves oblique may well Themselves in every angle greet; But ours so truly parallel, Though infinite, can never meet.
Therefore the love which us doth bind, But Fate so enviously debars, Is the conjunction of the mind, And opposition of the stars.
