The Garden
by Andrew Marvell
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| “Suburban Garden 3” by Ron Shirt |
Analysis of “The Garden”
“The Garden” is a poem crafted by Andrew Marvell, and in recent times is reputed to be his third most examined poem (Wheeler 163). As far as the construction of the poem is concerned, it has nine stanzas of iambic tetrameter couplets (Wheeler 20). There are three themes that seem to be prevalent throughout “The Garden.” In short the themes are the praise of solitude, the virtues of writing, and the speaker’s progression of outlook from physical to spiritual.
One of the first that presents itself is the belief that solitude is ideal. The poem even states explicitly: “Society is all but rude,/To this delicious solitude.” (line 16) As for why the speaker seems to think that this is so, by examining the beginning of the poem it is clear that the speaker is disillusioned with the activities of mankind. As Wheeler stated when he also noted this theme, the “crowns” that are mentioned in the first stanza could be symbolic of humans rewarding others for their work (96). However what seems to be important here is that the word “vainly” is also mentioned within the first line when the speaker is talking about others. It is possible then that the reason that Marvell’s speaker in this poem ends up wishing to be alone is due to the fact that he sees the workings and status of others as petty and meaningless. This theme goes on to color the rest of the poem and eventually leads the speaker to try and broaden his horizons elsewhere, namely in nature.
As for what the speaker seems to find, the second theme that arises is the belief that writing is a valuable art. One of the most potent lines to illustrate this point is found when Marvell’s speaker writes the name of the tree into the tree itself even though he dislikes that others imbed the name of their lover into the tree (lines 20-25). If the speaker in “The Garden” disapproves and yet mimics this action in turn, then it demonstrates that the act of writing is a valid art form so long as it is done for something less transient than a lover’s whim.
One of the final points in this poem is that the speaker seems to undergo a transformation, where he views the world through an increasingly spiritual perspective. Starting from stanza five the speaker seems to first focus on the beauty of the garden, then he examines the virtues of the mind, and finally his soul seems to leave his body (lines 33-56). What is interesting about this is that Wheeler noticed this theme as well, but stated explicitly that there is no connection between the garden itself and this evolution in the speaker’s perspective since being in a beautiful surrounding would make it more difficult to retreat to the playground of the mind (98-99). Though this is an interesting observation, it is possible that the garden itself is connected directly to the speaker’s progression. After all, the poem states directly: “Stumbling on melons as I pass,/Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.” (lines 39-40). This gives the feeling that the garden itself is playing an active role and does directly interact with the speaker. In addition if the speaker did indeed fall, then it is likely that the is looking at either the sky or the ground beneath thim. Therefore, it is possible then that he is no longer looking directly at the garden’s beauty and therefore will not be as distracted by it. Tying this together, it is possible that the garden did have a direct role in making the speaker slow down and begin reflecting on larger matters such as the nature of the mind and the sensation of the spirit.
In conclusion, Andrew Marvell has demonstrated in “The Garden” that the ideas and thoughts of a human mind can be both expressed and affected by elements found within nature. The beauty within this realization is that nature then can be used as a mirror and partner to assist an individual with his own personal evolution.
I.
How vainly men themselves amaze
To win the palm, the oak, or bays,
And their uncessant labors see
Crowned from some single herb or tree,
Whose short and narrow-verged shade
Does prudently their toils upbraid;
While all flowers and all trees do close
To weave the garlands of repose!
II.
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.
III.
No white nor red was ever seen
So amorous as this lovely green.
Fond lovers, cruel as their flame,
Cut in these trees their mistress’ name:
Little, alas, they know or heed
How far these beauties hers exceed!
Fair trees, wheresoe’er your barks I wound,
No name shall but your own be found.
IV.
When we have run our passion’s heat,
Love hither makes his best retreat,
The gods, that mortal beauty chase,
Still in a tree did end their race:
Apollo hunted Daphne so,
Only that she might laurel grow;
And Pan did after Syrinx speed,
Not as a nymph, but for a reed.
V.
What wondrous life is this I lead!
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.
VI.
Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less,
Withdraws into its happiness;
The mind, that ocean where each kind
Does straight its own resemblance find;
Yet it creates, transcending these,
Far other worlds and other seas,
Annihilating all that’s made
To a green thought in a green shade.
VII.
Here at the fountain’s sliding foot,
Or at some fruit tree’s mossy root,
Casting the body’s vest aside,
My soul into the boughs does glide:
There like a bird it sits and sings,
Then whets and combs its silver wings,
And, till prepared for longer flight,
Waves in its plumes the various light.
VIII.
Such was that happy garden-state,
While man there walked without a mate:
After a place so pure and sweet,
What other help could yet be meet!
But ’twas beyond a mortal’s share
To wander solitary there:
Two paradises ’twere in one
To live in paradise alone.
IX.
How well the skillful gardener drew
Of flowers and herbs this dial new,
Where from above the milder sun
Does through a fragrant zodiac run;
And as it works, th’ industrious bee
Computes its time as well as we!
How could such sweet and wholesome hours
Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers?
References:
Greenblatt, Stephen, ed. The Norton Anthology of English Literature, Ninth Edition. New York and London: W.W. Norton & Company, 2012. Print.
Wheeler, Thomas. Andrew Marvell Revisited. New York: Twayne Publishers, 1996. Print.
Photo Source:
“Suburban Garden 3.” Ron Shirt. https://sites.udel.edu/britlitwiki/files//2018/06/FileSuburban_Garden_3_-_geograph.org_.uk_-_166910.jpg
Contributors:
Chelsea Miller