Thomas Carew


GO, thou gentle whispering wind,
Bear this sigh, and if thou find
Where my cruel fair doth rest
Cast it in her snowy breast,
So, inflamed by my desire,
It may set her heart afire.
Those sweet kisses thou shalt gain,
Will reward thee for thy pain ;
Boldly light upon her lip,
There suck odours, and thence skip
To her bosom ; lastly fall
Down, and wander over all.
Range about those ivory hills,
From whose every part distils
Amber dew ; there spices grow,
There pure streams of nectar flow ;
There perfume thyself, and bring
All those sweets upon thy wing.
As thou return'st, change by thy power,
Every weed into a flower ;
Turn each thistle to a vine,
Make the bramble eglantine ;
For so rich a booty made,
Do but this, and I am paid.
Thou can'st with thy powerful blast
Heat apace, and cool as fast ;
Thou can'st kindle hidden flame,
And again destroy the same :
Then, for pity, either stir
Up the fire of love in her,
That alike both flames may shine,
Or else quite extinguish mine.

Vincent, Arthur, ed. The Poems of Thomas Carew.
London: George Routledge & Sons, Ltd., nd. 14-15.

to Works of Thomas Carew

Site copyright ©1996-2001 Anniina Jokinen. All Rights Reserved.
Created by Anniina Jokinen on March 23, 1997. Last updated on March 20, 2001.