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- But at my back I always hear
- Time's winged chariot hurrying near.
ANDREW MARVELL, To His Coy Mistress
- For Fate with jealous eye does see
- Two perfect loves, nor lets them close;
- Their union would her ruin be,
- And her tyrannic power depose.
ANDREW MARVELL, The Definition of Love
- My Love is of a birth as rare
- As 'tis, for object, strange and high;
- It was begotten by Despair,
- Upon Impossibility.
ANDREW MARVELL, The Definition of Love
- 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.
ANDREW MARVELL, "To His Coy Mistress"
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