Marvell's `To his Coy Mistress'

   Had we but World enough, and Time,
   This coyness Lady were no crime.
   We could sit down, and think which way
   To walk, and pass out 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 than Empires, and more slow.
   An hundred years should go to praise
   Thine Eyes, and on thye 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 Chariot 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 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 hew
   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 am'rous birds of prey
   Rather at one our Time devour,
   That 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,
   Through the Iron gates of Life.
   Thus, though we cannot make our Sun
   Stand still, yet we will make him run.

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