Thomas Carew



TOSS'D in a troubled sea of griefs, I float
Far from the shore, in a storm-beaten boat ;
Where my sad thoughts do, like the compass, show
The several points from which cross-winds do blow.
My heart doth, like the needle, touch'd with love,
Still fix'd on you, point which way I would move ;
You are the bright pole-star, which, in the dark
Of this long absence, guides my wand'ring bark ;
Love is the pilot, but o'er-come with fear
Of your displeasure, dares not homewards steer.
My feareful hope hangs on my trembling sail,
Nothing is wanting but a gentle gale,
Which pleasant breath must blow from your sweet lip :
Bid it but move, and quick as thought this ship
Into your arms, which are my port, will fly,
Where it for ever shall at anchor lie.

Vincent, Arthur, ed. The Poems of Thomas Carew.
London: George Routledge & Sons, Ltd., nd. 30.

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