Thomas CarewThomas Care W
¶[1595(?)-1639(?)}
The True Beauty
¶HE that loves a rosy cheekOr a coral lip admires,Or from star-like eyes doth seekFuel to maintain his fires;As old Time makes these decay,So his flames must waste away.
¶But a smooth and steadfast mind,Gentle thoughts, and calm desires,Hearts with equal love combined,Kindle never-dying fires:—Where these are not, I despiseLovely cheeks or lips or eyes.
Ask Men O More
¶ASK me no more where Jove bestows,When June is past, the fading rose;For in your beauty's orient deepThese flowers, as in their causes, sleep.
¶Ask men o more whither do strayThe golden atoms of the day;For in pure love did heaven prepareThose powders to enrich your hair.
¶Ask men o more whither doth hasteThe nightingale when May is past;For in your sweet dividing throatShe winters and keeps warm her note.
¶Ask men o more where those stars 'lightThat downwards fall in dead of night;For in your eyes they sit, and thereFixed become as in their sphere.
Thomas Carew
¶Ask men o more if east or westThe Phcenix builds her spicy nest;For unto you at last she flies,And in your fragrant bosom dies.
Know, Celia
¶KNOW, Celia, since thou art so proud,' T was I that gave thee thy renown;Thou hadst in the forgotten crowdOf common beauties lived unknown ,Had not my verse extoll'd thy name,And with it imp'd the wings of Fame .
¶That killing power is none of thine:I gave it to thy voice and eyes;Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine;Thou art my star, shin'st in my skies;Then dart not from thy borrowed sphereLightning on him that fixed thee there.
¶Tempt me with such affrights no more,Lest what I made I uncreate;Let fools thy mystic forms adore,I know thee in thy mortal state:Wise poets, that wrapt Truth in tales,Knew her themselves through all her veils.
Give Me More Love
¶GIVE me more love, or more disdain;The torrid or the frozen zoneBring equal ease unto my pain;The temperate affords me none:Either extreme, of love or hate,Is sweeter than a calm estate.