"On a Drop of Dew" (Andrew Marvell, 1681)

 

 (image credit: poetryfoundation.org)

About Andrew Marvell

"Andrew Marvell is surely the single most compelling embodiment of the charge the came over English society and letters in the course of the 17th century. In an era that makes a better claim than most upon the familiar term transitional, Marvell wrote a varied array of exquisite lyrics that blend Cavalier grace with Metaphysical wit and complexity."

"The son of the Reverend Andrew Marvell and Anne Pease Marvell, Andrew Marvell spent his boyhood in the Yorkshire town of Hull, where his father, a clergyman of Calvinist inclination, was appointed lecturer at Holy Trinity Church and master of the Charterhouse when teh poet was three years old...at the age of twelve in 1633, Marvell was sent up to Trinity College, Cambridge."

"Marvell's death [is], generally attributed to a fever, on August 16, 1678." 

To read more about Andrew Marvell and read some of his poems, refer to https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/andrew-marvell.

 "On a Drop of Dew" (Andrew Marvell, 1681)             

        

See how the orient dew,

Shed from the bosom of the morn   

   Into the blowing roses,

Yet careless of its mansion new,

For the clear region where ’twas born   

   Round in itself incloses:

   And in its little globe’s extent,

Frames as it can its native element.

   How it the purple flow’r does slight,   

      Scarce touching where it lies,

   But gazing back upon the skies,   

      Shines with a mournful light,

         Like its own tear,

Because so long divided from the sphere.

   Restless it rolls and unsecure,

      Trembling lest it grow impure,

   Till the warm sun pity its pain,   

And to the skies exhale it back again.

      So the soul, that drop, that ray   

Of the clear fountain of eternal day,   

Could it within the human flow’r be seen,

      Remembering still its former height,

      Shuns the sweet leaves and blossoms green,

      And recollecting its own light,

Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express

The greater heaven in an heaven less.   

      In how coy a figure wound,   

      Every way it turns away:   

      So the world excluding round,   

      Yet receiving in the day,

      Dark beneath, but bright above,

      Here disdaining, there in love.

   How loose and easy hence to go,

   How girt and ready to ascend,

   Moving but on a point below,

   It all about does upwards bend.

Such did the manna’s sacred dew distill,   

White and entire, though congealed and chill,   

Congealed on earth : but does, dissolving, run   

Into the glories of th’ almighty sun.

 

Response Poems:

 

Note: one student wrote a response poem but requested to not be listed and so is not shown here.

 

"Untitled" (subbie, Uni High, 2026) 

 

        As the drops fall down

        the grass gets wet, creating

        a relaxing space 

 

 "Untitled" (subbie, Uni High, 2026)

 

        One must wonder how it feels to be rain

        The horror of not reaching the ground, to not be able to complete your mission

        To free fall, imagining the pain

        But luckily, nothing can obscure your vision

        So you fall, and you gain  

 

"Untitled" (subbie, Uni High, 2026)

 

        Sunsets

        Sunrises

        Sunsets

        Sunrises

        Up

        Down

        Up

        Down

        Left

        Right

        Left

        Right

        Exist

        Exist

        Exist

        Exist

        Living does not equal existing

 

"Untitled" (subbie, Uni High, 2026)

 

        isn't it strange,

        how we tend to credit

        invisible, intangible beings

        for goodwill and happiness and love

        and how we equate humanity

        with wrongdoing and cruelty and hate?

 

        apparently,

        our existence is sin

        and their nonexistence is perfection.