Thomas Carew



HOW ill doth he deserve a lover's name
             Whose pale weak flame
             Cannot retain
His heat, in spite of absence or disdain ;
But doth at once, like paper set on fire
             Burn and expire !
True love can never change his seat,
Nor did he ever love that could retreat.

That noble flame, which my breast keeps alive,
             Shall still survive
             When my soul's fled ;
Nor shall my love die, when my body's dead ;
That shall wait on me to the lower shade,
             And never fade :
My very ashes in their urn
Shall, like a hallow'd lamp, for ever burn.

Vincent, Arthur, ed. The Poems of Thomas Carew.
London: George Routledge & Sons, Ltd., nd. 31.

to Works of Thomas Carew

Site copyright ©1996-2001 Anniina Jokinen. All Rights Reserved.
Created by Anniina Jokinen on March 25, 2001.