The following is an analysis of the metaphysical love poem by Andrew Marvell, “To His Coy Mistress”

The Urgency of Marvell’s Metaphysics

by John R. Adkins

The metaphysical poets of 17th century England varied in style, yet this movement as a whole marked a step away from the lyrical emphasis of medieval Bards. The characteristics that define the metaphysical poets are elusive even today, some four hundred years later. T.S. Eliot describes it as a “dissociation of sensibility,” or, the well that arose from a growing awareness of prior poetic traditions. Others made the association between this style of expression, and the metaphysics of ancient Christian theology, especially in the case of Andrew Marvell’s poem “To His Coy Mistress”. Originally published after Marvell’s death, “To His Coy Mistress” is widely regarded as one of the best expressions of Carpe Diem, or Latin for seize the day. An expression similar in tone to Momento mori, or remember that you die, a theme prevalent in Christian theology as a means of purifying the soul in preparation for the afterlife. Although Marvell is metaphysical in the literary sense, his poem “To His Coy Mistress” is antithetical to the metaphysical pursuit of an afterlife in almost every line. For the case is made that there is no vastness of eternity, and therefore his lust should be quenched before the sun sets on his apparently transient youth.

The Oxford English Dictionary's definition of poetry makes note of the “patterned arrangement of language.” Andrew Marvell’s “To His Coy Mistress” arranges the argument for seizing the day in a logical syllogism made up of three parts; if, but, and therefore, which constitutes the three stanzas of the poem. Marvell writes if there were enough time we could be coy and move slowly, but time hurries us towards the grave, therefore “let us sport while we may.” Effectively making the argument that we should be urgent in the face of our mortality. Whether or not Marvell believes in an afterlife, he must convince his “coy mistress” that in fact there is none if he is to have his way with her.

To His Coy Mistress

Had we but World enough, and Time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long Loves Day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges side
Should'st Rubies find: I by the Tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood:
And you should if you please refuse
Till the Conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable Love should grow
Vaster than Empires, and more slow.
A hundred years should go to praise
Thine Eyes, and on thy Forehead Gaze.
Two hundred to adore each breast:
But thirty thousand to the rest.
An Age at least to every part,
And the last Age should show your Heart.
For Lady you deserve this State;
Nor would I love at lower rate.
    But at my back I always hear
Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near:
And yonder all before us lye
Deserts of vast Eternity.
Thy Beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble Vault, shall sound
My echoing Song: then Worms shall try
That long preserv'd 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.
    Now therefore, while the youthful hew
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing Soul transpires
At every pore with instant Fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our Time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapt pow'r.
Let us roll all our Strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one Ball:
And tear our Pleasures with rough strife,
Thorough the Iron gates of Life.
Thus, though we cannot make our Sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

The words worm their way into the audience’s head like lyrics. Octosyballic line structure carries readers forward through easily digestible rhyming couplets to display extended metaphors and wild imagery of the end of time and ravenous animals. Images strong enough to stir the audience’s own arousal of lust as we can nearly hear Marvell crying out in desperation. Lines five through seven put “Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side, shouldst rubies find” and “I by the tide of Humber…”. This stanza, the “if” of the syllogism, intrigues his lover with the fantasy of being outside of time, for if they truly were immortal the author promises this stroll along what feels like the edge of the world. And if his lover pleases, they may continue to refuse his offers until “the conversion of the Jews”, the proverbial end of time according to the bible. Subsequently, in line 11, Marvell states that in this fantasy his “Vegetable love” would slowly grow vaster than empires. Lyrically, the word vegetable already stands in contrast to its surrounding language. This figure of speech is used to differentiate his feelings of lust from a more spiritual love, ascribing his feelings of lust to be that of a “vegetable”, or that which is without a consciousness. This suggestion is a powerful addendum because it stresses that in spite of these visions of immortality in this stanza, it acknowledges the existence of very earthly feelings within them. Marvell takes the time to tell how each of his lover’s parts would be deserving of an age, and his expansive language of “praising” and “gazing”, for “hundreds” and “thousands” of years in this stanza establishes the feelings that perhaps they do have until the end of history to be coy.

However this feeling is abruptly swatted from the heart of his lover and from the minds of the audience with the entrance of “Time’s winged chariot”. A wicked annoyance of satanic origins when compared to the expansive biblical imagery of couplets passed. Now where the lover once imagined unearthing rubies along the shores of a river, they are stranded in line four of the second stanza in “Deserts of vast Eternity”. The audience feels the lover’s beauty entrapped by “thy marble vault” of death and the lover is horrified at the mention of their precious virginity being finally tried by neigh but worms. In lines nine and ten, the “honour turns to dust”, and “into ashes all my lust”. These images strike fear into the heart of his lover that they are in fact not metaphysical at all, just mere fleshy mortals of earthly origins and are doomed to return to the ash and dust from whence they came.

In the final stanza, Marvell provides the solution to this vacuous nightmare, for it lies before them in the here and now. Suspended in time is their youth, “like morning dew,” an image of stillness universal to anyone who has witnessed the rising of the sun. Then in line three, Marvell makes the first reference to the lovers containing anything resembling metaphysical origins, “thy willing soul transpires at every pore with instant fires”. Not just any soul, but a willing soul, implying that the soul is only there when bubbling up into fiery existence, transpiring from the pores like drops of dew, if it is willing to seize this moment. The depiction of their engagement as birds of prey that will “time devour” gives weight to the sheer ferocity of Marvell’s lustful urgency. In lines eleven and twelve of this final stanza, he describes tearing their pleasures “with rough strife Through the iron gates of life”. The iron gates of life are symbolic of the womb of his lover needing to be unlocked, but also signify a potential crossing of the threshold, where for a moment they may escape the shackles of their entombed mortality, where they are bound by time and the finite nature of existence.

These urgent images carry forth the brevity of emotion that is required of such “carpe diem” poems. In the mind’s eye the audience (the lover) is presented with the expansive horizons of a paradise where their love extends until the end of time itself. As soon as this vision is established, it is ripped away by the memento mori, but not in the metaphysical sense. This is to remember that you die — for there is nothing else. Nothing can escape but the worms that gnaw at the locked gates of a once preserved virginity. The language in this second stanza seems to remove all hope, religion, and visions of paradise. Leaving nothing left but the vegetable love which somehow still grows in the first stanza. Therefore claiming that in the face of all our bleak mortality, all we have left are our passions. To Marvell, any faith he may have in a soul is overwhelmed by his lust, therefore his only salvation is to seize the day.