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Best Famous Thomas Carew Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Thomas Carew poems. This is a select list of the best famous Thomas Carew poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Thomas Carew poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Thomas Carew poems.

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Written by Thomas Carew |

Disdain Returned

 He that loves a rosy cheek, 
Or a coral lip admires, 
Or from starlike eyes doth seek 
Fuel to maintain his fires; 
As old Time makes these decay, 
So his flames must waste away.
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.
No tears, Celia, now shall win My resolved heart to return; I have searched thy soul within, And find naught but pride and scorn; I have learned thy arts, and now Can disdain as much as thou.
Some power, in my revenge convey That love to her I cast away.

Written by Thomas Carew |

The Spring

 Now that the winter's gone, the earth hath lost 
Her snow-white robes, and now no more the frost 
Candies the grass, or casts an icy cream 
Upon the silver lake or crystal stream; 
But the warm sun thaws the benumbed earth, 
And makes it tender; gives a sacred birth 
To the dead swallow; wakes in hollow tree 
The drowsy cuckoo and the humble-bee.
Now do a choir of chirping minstrels bring In triumph to the world the youthful spring.
The valleys, hills, and woods in rich array Welcome the coming of the long'd-for May.
Now all things smile; only my love doth lour; Nor hath the scalding noonday sun the power To melt that marble ice, which still doth hold Her heart congeal'd, and makes her pity cold.
The ox, which lately did for shelter fly Into the stall, doth now securely lie In open fields; and love no more is made By the fireside, but in the cooler shade Amyntas now doth with his Chloris sleep Under a sycamore, and all things keep Time with the season; only she doth carry June in her eyes, in her heart January.

Written by Thomas Carew |

A Divine Mistress

 In Nature's pieces still I see
Some error that might mended be;
Something my wish could still remove,
Alter or add; but my fair love
Was fram'd by hands far more divine,
For she hath every beauteous line:
Yet I had been far happier,
Had Nature, that made me, made her.
Then likeness might (that love creates) Have made her love what now she hates; Yet I confess I cannot spare From her just shape the smallest hair; Nor need I beg from all the store Of heaven for her one beauty more.
She hath too much divinity for me: You gods, teach her some more humanity.

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Written by Thomas Carew |

Mediocrity in Love Rejected

 Give me more love or more disdain; 
The torrid, or the frozen zone,
Bring equal ease unto my pain;
The temperate affords me none;
Either extreme, of love, or hate,
Is sweeter than a calm estate.
Give me a storm; if it be love, Like Danae in that golden show'r I swim in pleasure; if it prove Disdain, that torrent will devour My vulture-hopes; and he's possess'd Of heaven, that's but from hell releas'd.
Then crown my joys, or cure my pain; Give me more love, or more disdain.

Written by Thomas Carew |

He That Loves A Rosy Cheek

 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.
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.

Written by Thomas Carew |

Song. Mediocrity in love rejected.

 GIVE me more love or more disdain ; 
The torrid or the frozen zone 
Bring equal ease unto my pain, 
The temperate affords me none : 
Either extreme of love or hate, 
Is sweeter than a calm estate.
Give me a storm ; if it be love, Like Dana? in that golden shower, I swim in pleasure ; if it prove Disdain, that torrent will devour My vulture-hopes ; and he's possess'd Of heaven, that's but from hell released.
Then crown my joys or cure my pain : Give me more love or more disdain.

Written by Thomas Carew |

Ask Me No More

 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 do 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 Phoenix builds her spicy nest; For unto you at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies.

Written by Thomas Carew |

The Primrose

 Ask me why I send you here
The firstling of the infant year;
Ask me why I send to you
This primrose all bepearled with dew:
I straight will whisper in your ears,
The sweets of love are washed with tears.
Ask me why this flower doth show So yellow, green, and sickly too; Ask me why the stalk is weak And bending, yet it doth not break: I must tell you, these discover What doubts and fears are in a lover.

Written by Thomas Carew |

Lips and Eyes.

 IN Celia's face a question did arise,
Which were more beautiful, her lips or eyes ? 
“ We,” said the eyes, “send forth those pointed darts 
Which pierce the hardest adamantine hearts.
” “ From us,” repli'd the lips, “proceed those blisses Which lovers reap by kind words and sweet kisses.
” Then wept the eyes, and from their springs did pour Of liquid oriental pearl a shower ; Whereat the lips, moved with delight and pleasure, Through a sweet smile unlock'd their pearly treasure And bad Love judge, whether did add more grace Weeping or smiling pearls to Celia's face.

Written by Thomas Carew |

A Song

 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 phoenix builds her spicy nest; For unto you at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies.

Written by Thomas Carew |

A prayer to the Wind

 Go thou gentle whispering wind,
Bear this sigh; and if thou find
Where my cruel fair doth rest,
Cast it in her snowy breast,
So, enflam'd by my desire,
It may set her heart a-fire.
Those sweet kisses thou shalt gain, Will reward thee for thy pain: Boldly light upon her lip, There suck odours, and thence skip To her bosom; lastly fall Down, and wander over all: Range about those ivory hills, From whose every part distills Amber dew; there spices grow, There pure streams of nectar flow; There perfume thyself, and bring All those sweets upon thy wing: As thou return'st, change by thy power, Every weed into a flower; Turn each thistle to a vine, Make the bramble eglantine.
For so rich a booty made, Do but this, and I am paid.
Thou canst with thy powerful blast, Heat apace, and cool as fast: Thou canst kindle hidden flame, And again destroy the same; Then for pity, either stir Up the fire of love in her, That alike both flames may shine, Or else quite extinguish mine.

Written by Thomas Carew |

Song. A Beautiful Mistress.

 IF when the sun at noon displays
His brighter rays, 
Thou but appear, 
He then, all pale with shame and fear,
Quencheth his light,
Hides his dark brow, flies from thy sight,
And grows more dim,
Compared to thee, than stars to him.
If thou but show thy face again, When darkness doth at midnight reign, The darkness flies, and light is hurl'd Round about the silent world : So as alike thou driv'st away Both light and darkness, night and day.

Written by Thomas Carew |

A Cruel Mistress.

 We read of kings and gods that kindly took 
A pitcher fill'd with water from the brook ; 
But I have daily tender'd without thanks 
Rivers of tears that overflow their banks.
A slaughter'd bull will appease angry Jove, A horse the Sun, a lamb the god of love, But she disdains the spotless sacrifice Of a pure heart, that at her altar lies.
Vesta is not displeased, if her chaste urn Do with repaired fuel ever burn ; But my saint frowns, though to her honour'd name I consecrate a never-dying flame.
Th' Assyrian king did none i' th' furnace throw But those that to his image did not bow ; With bended knees I daily worship her, Yet she consumes her own idolater.
Of such a goddess no times leave record, That burnt the temple where she was adored.

Written by Thomas Carew |

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.

Written by Thomas Carew |

The Unfading Beauty

 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.
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.