Thomas Carew

“ 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. ”

“ Disdain Returned.
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. ”

“ Or if that golden fleece must grow
Forever, free from aged snow;
If those bright suns must know no shade,
Nor your fresh beauties ever fade;
Then fear not, Celia, to bestow
What, still being gathered, still must grow. ”