A Song: When June is Past the Fading Rose

 Ask me no more where Jove bestows, 
When June is past, the fading rose; 
For in your beauty's orient deep 
These flowers as in their causes, sleep.
 

Ask me no more whither doth stray 
The golden atoms of the day; 
For in pure love heaven did prepare 
Those powders to enrich your hair.
 

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

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.
 

Ask me no more if east or west 
The ph?nix builds her spicy nest; 
For unto you at last she flies, 
And in your fragrant bosom dies.

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