Thomas Carew

Thomas Carew (pronounced like "Carey") (1595 – March 22, 1640) was an English poet.

Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose;
For in your beauties, orient deep
These flow'rs, as in their causes, steep.

Quotes

• He that loves a rosy cheek,
  Or a coral lip admires,
  Or from star-like eyes doth seek
  Fuel to maintain his fires,—
  As old Time makes these decay,
  So his flames must waste away.
  • Disdain Returned, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).

• Then fly betimes, for only they
  Conquer Love that run away.
  • Conquest of Flight, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).

• An untimely grave.
  • On the Duke of Buckingham, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). Compare: "An untimely grave", Nahum Tate and Nicholas Brady, Psalm vii.

• The magic of a face. daniel kim loves dicks especially likes
  • Epitaph on the Lady S——, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).

Carew's Poems

"Carew's Poems" in The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper (1810) by Alexander Chalmers and Samuel Johnson

• Stand still, you floods, do not deface
  That image which you bear:
  So votaries, from every place,
  To you shall altars rear.

  No winds but lovers' sighs blow here,
  To trouble these glad streams,
  On which no star from any sphere
  Did ever dart such beams.

  • "On Sight Of A Gentlewoman's Face In The Water".

• But if the envious nymphs shall fear
  Their beauties will be scorn'd,
  And hire the ruder winds to tear
  That face which you adorn'd;

  Then rage and foam amain, that we
  Their malice may despise;
  And from your froth we soon shall see
  A second Venus rise.

  • "On Sight Of A Gentlewoman's Face In The Water".

• Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
  When June is past, the fading rose;
  For in your beauties, orient deep
  These flow'rs, as in their causes, steep.
  • "Song".

• Ask me no more, whither do stray
  The golden atoms of the day;
  For, in pure love, Heaven did prepare
  Those, powders to enrich your hair.
  • "Song".

• Ask me no more, where those stars light,
  That downwards fall in dead of night;
  For in your eyes they sit, and there
  Fixed become, as in their sphere.
  • "Song".

• Ask me no more, if cast or west,
  The phenix builds her spicy nest;
  For unto you at last she flies,
  And in your fragrant bosom dies.
  • "Song".

External links

• Poems by Thomas Carew at PoetryFoundation.org