|
|
|
- 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
|
|
|
