Andrew Marvell

(31 March 1621 – 16 August 1678 / Yorkshire, England)

An Epitaph - Poem by Andrew Marvell

Enough; and leave the rest to Fame!
'Tis to commend her, but to name.
Courtship which, living, she declined,
When dead, to offer were unkind:
Nor can the truest wit, or friend,
Without detracting, her commend.

To say--she lived a virgin chaste
In this age loose and all unlaced;
Nor was, when vice is so allowed,
Of virtue or ashamed or proud;
That her soul was on Heaven so bent,
No minute but it came and went;
That, ready her last debt to pay,
She summ'd her life up every day;
Modest as morn, as mid-day bright,
Gentle as evening, cool as night:
--'Tis true; but all too weakly said.
'Twas more significant, she's dead.


Comments about An Epitaph by Andrew Marvell

  • Susan Williams (6/9/2017 2:38:00 PM)


    She summ'd her life up every day;
    Modest as morn, as mid-day bright,
    Gentle as evening, cool as night: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -sounded like a significant life to me... it was lived according to her choices
    (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: friend, heaven, night, life



Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 4, 2003

Poem Edited: Monday, September 19, 2011


[Report Error]