To His Coy Mistress Poem by Andrew Marvell

To His Coy Mistress

Rating: 4.2


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.
Should'st 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 then 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 alwaies hear
Times winged Charriot hurrying near:
And yonder all before us lye
Desarts of vast Eternity.
Thy Beauty shall no more be found;
Nor, in thy marble Vault, shall sound
My ecchoing Song: then Worms shall try
That long preserv'd Virginity:
And your quaint Honour turn to durst;
And into ashes all my Lust.
The Grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hew
Sits on thy skin like morning glew,
And while thy willing Soul transpires
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.
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.

Tuesday, December 31, 2002
Topic(s) of this poem: love
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Manuel Cisneros 24 April 2012

one of the gratest love poems ever written.

40 13 Reply
Chizryan Ogunkah 27 August 2011

this poem acts as a reminder to women on how time is not their best company, even before the grave, they may lose the ''virtues'' mostly appreciated.

34 12 Reply
John Harper 28 January 2014

It is the most elegant snow job in the English language. It makes all of rock n roll wear pink!

31 11 Reply
Chizryan Ogunkah 27 August 2011

this poem acts as a reminder to women on how time is not their best company even before the

24 11 Reply
Sreelekha Premjit 22 June 2015

the grave is a fine and private place but none I think do there embrace...

26 6 Reply
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0 0 Reply
Shaun Cronick 07 May 2020

Simply marvellous and no pun intended.

13 0 Reply
David Nyaboga 28 May 2019

wow. have been looking for this

19 0 Reply
Goodnews Eruemuare 28 April 2018

My favourite poem in those days.

20 0 Reply
Tyler Greenwell 21 November 2017

I mean. Loud Negrosssssss

1 22 Reply
Andrew Marvell

Andrew Marvell

Yorkshire, England
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