Thomas Carew

1595-1640 / English
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A Deposition From LoveI was foretold, your rebell *** / Nor love, nor pitty knew; / And with what scorn you use to vex
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A Divine MistressIn Nature’s pieces still I see / Some error, that might mended be; / Something my wish could still remove,
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An Elegy Upon The Death Of The Dean Of St. Paul’s, Dr. John DonneCan we not force from widow’d poetry, / Now thou art dead (great Donne) one elegy / To crown thy hearse? Why yet dare we not trust,
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Another EpitaphThis little vault, this narrow room, / Of Love and Beauty is the tomb; / The dawning beam, that ‘gan to clear
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Ask Me No MoreAsk me no more where Jove bestows, / When June is past, the fading rose; / For in your beauty’s orient deep
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Disdain ReturnedHe that loves a rosy cheek, / Or a coral lip admires, / Or from star-like eyes doth seek
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Epitaph For Maria WentworthAnd here the precious dust is laid; / Whose purely-temper’d clay was made / So fine that it the guest betray’d.
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Epitaph On The Lady Mary VilliersThe Lady Mary Villiers lies / Under this stone; with weeping eyes / The parents that first gave her birth,
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Eternity Of Love ProtestedHow ill doth he deserve a lover’s name, / Whose pale weak flame / Cannot retain
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1.9k
I Do Not Love Thee For That FairI do not love thee for that fair / Rich fan of thy most curious hair; / Though the wires thereof be drawn
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1.9k
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