ANDREW MARVELL 1621-1678 Tercentenary Tributes

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Página 110 - TO HIS COY MISTRESS 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 love's 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...
Página 95 - 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, Insnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
Página 97 - Sits on thy skin like morning dew, And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant fires...
Página 126 - 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 shade.
Página 97 - I have a garden of my own, But so with roses overgrown And lilies, that you would it guess To be a little wilderness : And all the spring-time of the year It only love"d to be there. Among the beds of lilies I Have sought it oft, where it should He ; Yet could not, till itself would rise, Find it, although before mine eyes : — For in the flaxen lilies' shade It like a bank of lilies laid.
Página 110 - 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.
Página 95 - And sends the fowls to us, in care, On daily visits through the air. He hangs in shades the orange bright, Like golden lamps in a green night, And in these rocks for us did frame A temple where to sound His name.
Página 92 - Bind me, ye woodbines, in your twines ; Curl me about, ye gadding vines ; And oh so close your circles lace, That I may never leave this place : But lest your fetters prove too weak, Ere I your silken bondage break, Do you, O brambles, chain me too, And, courteous briars, nail me through.
Página 75 - Tis madness to resist or blame The face of angry heaven's flame ; And if we would speak true, Much to the Man is due Who, from his private gardens, where He lived reserved and austere (As if his highest plot To plant the bergamot) Could by industrious valour climb To ruin the great work of time, And cast the Kingdoms old Into another mould.
Página 67 - But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.

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