What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth… — Andrew Marvell Copy Share Image
And now, when I have summed up all my store, Thinking (so I myself deceive) So rich a chaplet thence to weave… — Andrew Marvell Copy Share Image
Had it lived long, is would have been Lilies without, roses within. — Andrew Marvell Copy Share Image
How could such sweet and wholesome hours be reckoned, but in herbs and flowers? — Andrew Marvell Copy Share Image
I have a garden of my own, But so with roses overgrown, And lilies, that you would it guess To be a… — Andrew Marvell Copy Share Image
My love is of a birth as rare As 'tis, for object, strange and high; It was begotten by Despair Upon Impossibility. — Andrew Marvell Copy Share Image
“But at my back I always hear Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.” — Andrew Marvell Copy Share Image
What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush… — Andrew Marvell Copy Share Image
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… — Andrew Marvell Copy Share Image
The mind, that ocean where each kind Does straight its own resemblance find; Yet it creates, transcending these, Far other worlds, and other seas. — Andrew Marvell Copy Share Image
“Now therefore, while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew, And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant… — Andrew Marvell Copy Share Image
Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, Withdraws into its happiness; The mind, that ocean where each kind Does straight its own resemblance find; Yet… — Andrew Marvell Copy Share Image
How vainly men themselves amaze, / To win the palm, the oak, or bays; / And their incessant labours see / Crowned from some… — Andrew Marvell Copy Share Image
And now, when I have summed up all my store, Thinking (so I myself deceive) So rich a chaplet thence to weave As never… — Andrew Marvell Copy Share Image
