Strolling on a primrose-covered hill, the speaker imagines each drop of heavenly rain nourishing its own flower, creating a terrestrial galaxy. He’s looking for a true love, but decides she can’t be a mere woman—women are all false. She’d need to be more or less than woman, but less is nothing, and more would make him study, not love her; both are monstrous. He’d rather women falsify themselves with art than by nature. Then the poem pivots: let the primrose thrive with its true number five, and woman be content with this mysterious number. Playful math ensues: ten is the farthest number, so if half ten belongs to each woman, each may take half of men. Or, because all numbers are odd or even and the first we fall into is five, woman may take us all. The mood is wittily intellectual, teasing, lightly cynical—serious love talk melts into a clever, flirtatious numbers game.
The Primrose — Summary
Upon this Primrose hill, Where, if Heav'n would distil A shower of rain, each several drop might go To his own primrose, and grow manna so; And where their form and their infinity Make a terrestrial Galaxy, As the small stars do in the sky: I walk to find a true Love; and I see That 'tis not a mere woman that is she, But must or more or less than woman be.
Yet know I not which flower I wish; a six, or four; For should my true-Love less than woman be She were scarce any thing; and then, should she Be more than woman she would get above All thought of sex, and think to move My heart to study her, and not to love; Both these were monsters; since there must reside Falsehood in woman, I could more abide She were by art than Nature falsified.
Live primrose then, and thrive With thy true number five; And woman, whom this flower doth represent, With this mysterious number be content; Ten is the farthest number; if half ten Belong unto each woman, then Each woman may take half us men; Or if this will not serve their turn, since all Numbers are odd or even, and they fall First into this, five, woman may take us all.