“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. Thomas Carew
“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. Thomas Carew
“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. Thomas Carew