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Quote of the Day: To His Coy Mistress
To His Coy Mistress
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,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than 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 always hear
Time’s wingèd 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-preserved 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.Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
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
Time moves no less quickly now than it did then. Another year gone. Another year fresh ahead of us, as with each second and moment that flees before us and somehow passes behind us. 2019 is here, but will soon enough be in our past. Let us do what we can with it. Let us know it. Let us savor each moment. Let the dogs and cats sleep, but I shall pack all I can into my year. G-d is with us.
Published in Group Writing
Haha! Men have been coming up with lines for such a long time. We learned the above poem in English class, along with:
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying.
And that same flower which blooms today
Tomorrow may be dying.
(To a Virgin or something like that)
We also studied one that I wish I could find again, but I can’t even remember which poet it was. It went on and on about Your little hands, your little feet, etc and ended with Your little mind.
https://www.poetrynook.com/poem/your-little-hands
https://www.bartleby.com/101/248.html
I prefer a longer perspective; e.g. Psalm 90
Ah, Paradise by the Carriage Gaslight!
Good try, Andrew. I hope it worked for you.
But I somehow doubt she ditched the duenna for you.
And that “Old Time” is a-flying faster and faster every year!! Cool poetry…
Those are so sexist and degrading in MHO.
But how does that get the doxie into bed?
Actually, if you haven’t signed up for Group Writing this month, you should. You could do it combined with QotD and post that.
At Mass this morning, our priest told us to enter the New Year free, after having laid down our anger and bitterness and having forgiven everyone we need to forgive.
“Lay down your burden and forgive!
I say again, Forgive!”
He reminded us that the Lord does not give us love and mercy because we are so wonderful and we deserve it, but in spite of our failings and transgressions.
Enter the New Year free!
My favorite part!
Probably the first poem I ever read with interest. Sophomore English I believe. I love it still and draw on the hurrying winged chariot for lots of things.
His Coy Mistress to Mr. Marvell
Since you have world enough and time
Sir, to admonish me in rhyme,
Pray Mr Marvell, can it be
You think to have persuaded me?
Then let me say: you want the art
To woo, much less to win my heart.
The verse was splendid, all admit,
And, sir, you have a pretty wit.
All that indeed your poem lacked
Was logic, modesty, and tact,
Slight faults and ones to which I own,
Your sex is generally prone;
But though you lose your labour, I
Shall not refuse you a reply:
. . .
Remember that she will be stirred
More by the spirit than the word;
For truth and tenderness do more
Than coruscating metaphor.
Had you addressed me in such terms
And prattled less of graves and worms,
I might, who knows, have warmed to you;
But, as things stand, must bid adieu
(Though I am grateful for the rhyme)
And wish you better luck next time.
The entire poem, by A.D. Hope, can be found here.
Carpe diem!
Well, that make me like the poem more.
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Well, I liked the entire poem!
I always loved “To His Importunate Mistress” by Peter DeVries
Probably the Akkadians used similar lines.
Wow thank you! I’ve been trying to find that for years.
Aha I couldn’t remember if it was Herrick or Lovelace. And here this book was on my book shelf the whole time:
I remember when that was first published. In the New Yorker. Heavens, I’m old.
The book to the left of Herrick is my favorite Opera. Was it in French?
So, it was just eye candy?
I resemble that remark
Yes, it’s in French. The opera varies sightly from the novella. This edition has a handwritten inscription (“Detroit, December 25, 1910, to Lilly in all affection – Pierre Augieras”):
…………………………………
This is all I could find online about Pierre Augieras, who apparently was a pianist:
On the OP, uh, I’ll ask the question: what’n heck is vegetable love?
That inscription is absolutely beautiful.
Er, generally taken to refer to an organic or natural love, with references back to Aristotle and the ancients and various and sundry types of love. A “lower” level of love that applies to all living things, animate and inanimate, not intrinsically sexual.
There’s also a theory that it’s a not-terribly-obvious (to the twenty-first century mind, anyway) dick joke. I guess you had to be there, in 1690 or whenever it was.
You be the judge.
It grows. It is green and fresh.
It reminds me of “my salad days, when I was green in judgement,” as Shakespeare says.