Author: Thomas Carew

HE that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain […]

In Nature’s pieces still I see Some error that might mended be; Something my wish could still remove, Alter or […]

THINK not, ’cause men flattering say You’re fresh as April, sweet as May, Bright as is the morning star, That […]

Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty’s orient deep […]

GAZE not on thy beauty’s pride, Tender maid, in the false tide That from lovers’ eyes doth slide. Let thy […]

IN Celia’s face a question did arise, Which were more beautiful, her lips or eyes? ” We,” said the eyes, […]

Go thou gentle whispering wind, Bear this sigh; and if thou find Where my cruel fair doth rest, Cast it […]

Mark how the bashful morn in vain Courts the amorous marigold, With sighing blasts and weeping rain, Yet she refuses […]

Know, Celia, since thou art so proud, ‘Twas I that gave thee thy renown. Thou hadst in the forgotten crowd […]

IF when the sun at noon displays His brighter rays, Thou but appear, He then, all pale with shame and […]

Know Celia, since thou art so proud, ‘Twas I that gave thee thy renown; Thou hadst, in the forgotten crowd […]