Andrew Marvell(1621–1678)
The Picture of Little T. C. in a Prospect of Flowers
See with what simplicity
This nymph7 begins her golden days!
In the green grass she loves to lie,
And there with her fair aspect tames
The wilder flowers, and gives them names;
But only with the roses plays,
And them does tell
What color best becomes them, and what smell.
W h o can foretell for what high cause
This darling of the gods was born
Yet this is she whose chaster laws
The wanton Love8 shall one day fear,
And, u n d e r her c o m m a n d severe,
S e e his b o w broke and e n s i g n s torn.
H a p p y w h o c a n
A p p e a s e this virtuous e n e m y of man!9
O t h e n let me in t i m e c o m p o u n d 0bargain
A n d parley1 w i t h t h o s e c o n q u e r i n g eyes,
Ere they have tried their force to w o u n d ;
Ere with their g l a n c i n g w h e e l s they drive
In triumph over hearts that strive,
A n d t h e m that yield but m o r e despise:
Let me be laid
W h e r e I m a y s e e thy glories from s o m e shade.
Meantime, whilst every verdant 0 thinggreen
Itself d o e s at thy b e a u t y charm,2
R e f o r m t h e errors of the spring;
M a k e that t h e tulips m a y have share
Of s w e e t n e s s , s e e i n g they are fair;
A n d roses of their thorns disarm;
But m o s t procure
That violets m a y a longer age e n d u r e .
But, O y o u n g b e a u t y of t h e w o o d s ,
W h o m nature courts w i t h fruits and flowers,
G a t h e r the flowers, but spare t h e buds,
Lest Flora, angry at thy crime
To kill her infants3 in their prime,
D o quickly m a k e t h e e x a m p l e yours;
A n d ere w e see,
N i p in t h e b l o s s o m all our h o p e s and t h e e .