Andrew Marvell Quotes

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Flowers Love Pleasure Running Time

But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near.

Andrew Marvell

Witty, Time, Humorous

"To His Coy Mistress" l. 21 (1681)

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Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.

Andrew Marvell

Flower, Bud, Moments

Andrew Marvell, Nigel Smith (2007). “The Poems of Andrew Marvell”, p.115, Pearson Education

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Had we but world enough, and time, this coyness, lady, were no crime.

Andrew Marvell

Rubies, World, Crime

"To His Coy Mistress" l. 1 (1681)

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The world in all doth but two nations bear- The good, the bad; and these mixed everywhere.

Andrew Marvell

Two Nations, World, Bears

Andrew Marvell (1870). “The Poetical Works of Andrew Marvell: With Memoir of the Author”, p.91

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Self-preservation, nature's first great law, all the creatures, except man, doth awe.

Andrew Marvell

Fear, Men, Self

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Art indeed is long, but life is short.

Andrew Marvell

Art, Life Is Short, Long

Andrew Marvell, Nigel Smith (2007). “The Poems of Andrew Marvell”, p.29, Pearson Education

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How vainly men themselves amaze To win the palm, the oak, or bays; And their uncessant labours see Crown'd from some single herb or tree. Whose short and narrow verged shade Does prudently their toils upbraid; While all flow'rs and all trees do close To weave the garlands of repose.

Andrew Marvell

Winning, Men, Tree

'The Garden' (1681) st. 1

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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

Love, Stars, Fate

'The Definition of Love' (1681)

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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.

Andrew Marvell

Running, Iron, Tears

"To His Coy Mistress" l. 41 (1681)

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The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.

Andrew Marvell

Death, Thinking, Dying

"To His Coy Mistress" l. 31 (1681)

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Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run

Andrew Marvell

Running, Carpe Diem, Sun

"To His Coy Mistress" l. 41 (1681)

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Had it lived long, is would have been
Lilies without, roses within.

Andrew Marvell

Flower, Long, Rose

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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.

Andrew Marvell

Cutting, White, Flames

Andrew Marvell (1997). “"To His Coy Mistress" and Other Poems”, p.24, Courier Corporation

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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.

Andrew Marvell

Happiness, Ocean, Garden

Andrew Marvell (2016). “"To His Coy Mistress" and Other Poems”, p.25, Courier Dover Publications

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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.

Andrew Marvell

Love, Lines, May

'The Definition of Love' (1681)

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I have a garden of my own, But so with roses overgrown, And lilies, that you would it guess To be a little wilderness.

Andrew Marvell

Flower, Garden, Rose

'The Nymph Complaining for the Death of her Fawn' (1681) l. 71

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Annihilating all that's made, To a green thought in a green shade.

Andrew Marvell

Tree, Green, Shade

"The Garden" l. 47 (1681)

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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

Eye, Memorable, Mean

"An Horatian Ode upon Cromwell's Return from Ireland" l. 57 (written 1650)

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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 long preserv'd virginity, And your quaint honour turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust. The grave's a fine and private place, But none I think do there embrace.

Andrew Marvell

Song, Lying, Thinking

"To His Coy Mistress" l. 31 (1681)

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Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide.

Andrew Marvell

Soul, Doe, Body

'The Garden' (1681) st. 7

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My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow.

Andrew Marvell

Vegetables, Empires, Sexuality

"To His Coy Mistress" l. 7 (1681)

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And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.

Andrew Marvell

Time, Lying, Desert

"To His Coy Mistress" l. 21 (1681)

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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.

Andrew Marvell

Time, Love You, Thinking

'To His coy Mistress' (1681) l. 1

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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.

Andrew Marvell

Life, Crush, Summer

'The Garden' (1681) st. 5

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

Andrew Marvell

Food, Apples, Cooking

'The Garden' (1681) st. 5

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Born: March 31, 1621
Died: August 16, 1678
Occupation: Poet
Cite this Page: Citation

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