The Coronet

By Andrew Marvell 1621–1678 Andrew Marvell
When for the thorns with which I long, too long,
   With many a piercing wound,
   My Saviour’s head have crowned,
I seek with garlands to redress that wrong:
   Through every garden, every mead,
I gather flowers (my fruits are only flowers),
   Dismantling all the fragrant towers
That once adorned my shepherdess’s head.
And now when I have summed up all my store,
   Thinking (so I myself deceive)
   So rich a chaplet thence to weave
As never yet the King of Glory wore:
   Alas, I find the serpent old
   That, twining in his speckled breast,
   About the flowers disguised does fold,
   With wreaths of fame and interest.
Ah, foolish man, that wouldst debase with them,
And mortal glory, Heaven’s diadem!
But Thou who only couldst the serpent tame,
Either his slippery knots at once untie;
And disentangle all his winding snare;
Or shatter too with him my curious frame,
And let these wither, so that he may die,
Though set with skill and chosen out with care:
That they, while Thou on both their spoils dost tread,
May crown thy feet, that could not crown thy head.

Source: Complete Poems (1996)

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Poet Andrew Marvell 1621–1678


SCHOOL / PERIOD 17th Century

Subjects Religion, Christianity

 Andrew  Marvell


In an era that makes a better claim than most upon the familiar term transitional, Andrew Marvell is surely the single most compelling embodiment of the change that came over English society and letters in the course of the seventeenth century. Author of a varied array of exquisite lyrics that blend Cavalier grace with Metaphysical wit and complexity, Marvell turned, first, into a panegyrist for the Lord Protector and his regime . . .

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Religion, Christianity


SCHOOL / PERIOD 17th Century

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Originally appeared in Poetry magazine.

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