Andrew Marvell
Yorkshire, England
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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.
COMMENTS
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.
19 0 Reply
Tyler Greenwell 21 November 2017
I mean. Loud Negrosssssss
1 21 Reply
Michael Scuffil 26 April 2017
'And tear our Pleasures with rough strife, Thorough the Iron gates of Life.' It does not take much imagination to realize what Marvell meant by the 'iron gates of life' (how did you come into the world?) and yet many people seem to miss the point of these two lines, which refer to the act of defloration. A splendid metaphor.
23 0 Reply
Ratnakar Mandlik 15 February 2017
Simply awesome write as also it, s flow and intensity of emotions there-in. Thanks for sharing it here.
16 5 Reply
Sylvaonyema Uba 15 February 2017
...I would love you ten years before the flood Wao! Well expressed and communicated! Sylva
20 4 Reply
Rajesh Thankappan 15 February 2017
Time and tide waits for none and that is true in love's fiefdom too.
19 5 Reply
Tom Allport 15 February 2017
a poem of longing for and not getting love? .........before it's to late.
20 6 Reply
Jane Urhobocha Ejobofor 15 February 2017
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.
20 5 Reply

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