Thomas Carew(ea. 1595–1640)
A Song ("Ask me no more where Jove bestows")
A s k m e n o m o r e w h e r e Jove1 b e s t o w s ,
W h e n J u n e i s past, t h e f a d i n g rose;
For in y o u r beauty's o r i e n t d e e p ,
T h e s e f l o w e r s , a s i n their c a u s e s , 2 s l e e p .
A s k m e n o m o r e w h i t h e r d o t h stray
T h e g o l d e n a t o m s o f t h e day;
For i n p u r e love h e a v e n did p r e p a r e
T h o s e p o w d e r s t o e n r i c h y o u r hair.
A s k m e n o m o r e w h i t h e r d o t h h a s t e
T h e n i g h t i n g a l e w h e n M a y is past;
For in your sweet dividing 3 throat
S h e w i n t e r s , a n d k e e p s w a r m h e r n o t e .
A s k m e n o m o r e w h e r e t h o s e stars light,
T h a t d o w n w a r d s fall in d e a d of night;
For in y o u r e y e s t h e y sit, a n d t h e r e
Fixed b e c o m e , as in their s p h e r e .
A s k m e n o m o r e i f e a s t o r w e s t
T h e p h o e n i x 4 b u i l d s h e r spicy n e s t ;
For u n t o y o u at last s h e flies,
A n d in y o u r fragrant b o s o m dies.