Marvell: Poems
Andrew MarvellSözler ve Alıntılar
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
As Lines so Loves oblique may well
Themselves in every Angle greet:
But ours so truly Paralel ,
Though infinite can never meet
So of Translators they are Authors grown,
For ill Translators make the Book their own.
Others do strive with words and forced phrase
To add such lustre, and so many rayes,
That but to make the Vessel shining, they
Much of the precious Metal rub away.
So we alone the happy rest,
Whilst all the World is poor,
And have within our Selves possest
All Love’s and Nature’s store
Thus let your Streams o’reflow your Springs,
Till Eyes and Tears be the same things:
And each the other’s difference bears;
These weeping Eyes, those seeing Tears.