PERSUASIONS TO JOY: A SONG
by: Thomas Carew (1595?-1639?)
- F the quick
spirits in your eye
- Now languish and anon must die;
- If every sweet and every grace
- Must fly from that forsaken face;
- Then, Celia, let us reap our joys
- Ere Time such goodly fruits destroys.
-
- Or if that golden fleece must grow
- For ever free from agèd snow;
- If those bright suns must know no shade,
- Nor your fresh beauties ever fade;
- Then fear not, Celia, to bestow
- What, still being gather'd, still must grow.
-
- Thus either Time his sickle brings
- In vain, or else in vain his wings.
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POEMS BY THOMAS CAREW |
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