GARDEN VERSES BY ANDREW MARVELL 41 

 All its chief delight was still 



O 



On roses thus itself to fill, 

 And its pure virgin limbs to fold 

 In whitest sheets of lilies cold: 

 Had it lived long it would have been 

 20 Lilies without, roses within. 



The Nymph complaining for the death of 

 her Fawn. 



II. LIFE IN A GARDEN 



FAIR Quiet, have I found thee here, 

 And Innocence, thy sister dear? 

 Mistaken long, I sought you then 

 In busy companies of men. 

 Your sacred plants if here below 

 Only among the plants will grow. 

 Society is all but rude, 

 To this delicious solitude. 



What wondrous life is this I lead ! 

 10 Ripe apples drop about my head ; 



The luscious clusters of the vine 

 Upon my mouth do crush their wine; 

 The nectarine and curious peach 

 Into my hands themselves do reach ; 

 Stumbling on melons as I pass, 

 Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass. 



Here, at the fountain's sliding foot, 

 Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, 

 Casting the body's vest aside, 

 20 My soul into the boughs does glide. 



