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.


About Thomas Carew


Thomas Carew was the son of a well-connected official and was educated at Merton College, Oxford and the Middle Temple in London. He worked as a diplomatic secretary in Italy, Holland and France, and soon gained a reputation as a poet. His talent secured him a place at court, and he was privileged to serve at Charles I's table. In 1634 his masque Coelum Britannicum was performed before the King. His poems, like those of other gentlemen of the era, were not published in his own lifetime but hand-written copies were circulated among his friends. These included Ben Jonson and... Read more...

Poet of the day

George William Louis Marshall-Hall was an English-born musician, composer, conductor, poet and controversialist who lived and worked in Australia from 1891 till his death in 1915. According to his birth certificate, his surname was ‘Hall’ and ‘Marshall’ was his fourth given name, which commemorated his physiologist grandfather, Marshall Hall (1790–1857)...
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Poem of the day


Hører, I, som græde,
Og med Taarer væde
Jesu Hvile-Sted!
Bort med Graad og Klage!
Her er gode Dage,
Her er Fryd og Fred,
Jesus smukt sin Magt har brugt,
Kløvet alle Fiendens Skjolde,
Stormet Mur og Volde!

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