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Thomas Carew - When June Is Past, The Fading Rose
Work rating: Medium

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