The Poetical Works of Andrew Marvell: With Memoir of the Author

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A. Murray, 1870 - 208 pages
 

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Page 50 - At every pore with instant fires, Now let us sport us while we may, And now, like am'rous birds of prey, Rather at once our time devour, Than languish in his slow-chapt pow'r.
Page 49 - 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.
Page 83 - 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. Here at the fountain's sliding foot Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside My soul into the boughs does glide; There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and claps its silver wings, And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes the various light.
Page 82 - 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.
Page 50 - 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.
Page 50 - But at my back I always hear Time's winged 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...
Page 47 - 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 springtime of the year It only loved to be there.
Page 42 - 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 does in the pomegranates close Jewels more rich than Ormus shows; He makes the figs our mouths to meet. And throws the melons at our feet...
Page 81 - 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, Whose short and narrow-verged shade Does prudently their toils upbraid ; While all the flowers and trees do close, To weave the garlands of repose...
Page 94 - Though Justice against Fate complain, And plead the ancient rights in vain: But those do hold or break As men are strong or weak.

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