Quotes from Thomas Carew

Those curious locks so aptly twin'd, Whose every hair a soul doth bind.

The firstling of the infant year.

Give me more love or more disdain;The torrid or the frozen zone:Bring equal ease unto my pain;The temperate affords me none.

Ask me no more whither doth hasteThe nightingale when May is past;For in your sweet dividing throatShe winters and keeps warm her note.

The magic of a face.

He that loves a rosy cheek,Or a coral lip admires,Or, from starlike eyes, doth seekFuel to maintain his fires;As old Time makes these decay,So his flames must waste away.

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.

Here lies a King that rul'd, as he thought fitThe universal monarchy of wit;Here lies two flamens, and both those the best:Apollo's first, at last the true God's priest.

Ask me no more if east or westThe Phoenix builds her spicy nest;For unto you at last she flies,And in your fragrant bosom dies.

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 despise Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes.