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More poems by Thomas CarewThomas Carew | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Thomas CarewBooks by Thomas Carew

I Do Not Love Thee For That Fair

Thomas Carew

I do not love thee for that fair
Rich fan of thy most curious hair;
Though the wires thereof be drawn
Finer than threads of lawn,
And are softer than the leaves
On which the subtle spider weaves.

I do not love thee for those flowers
Growing on thy cheeks, love's bowers;
Though such cunning them hath spread,
None can paint them white and red:
Love's golden arrows thence are shot,
Yet for them I love thee not.

I do not love thee for those soft
Red coral lips I've kissed so oft,
Nor teeth of pearl, the double guard
To speech whence music still is heard;
Though from those lips a kiss being taken
Mighty tyrants melt, and death awaken.

I do not love thee, O my fairest,
For that richest, for that rarest
Silver pillar, which stands under
Thy sound head, that globe of wonder;
Though that neck be whiter far
Than towers of polished ivory are.

Added: 12 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 21 Mar 2018 6:40 PM | Viewed: 4390 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/5966/ | Viewed on 21 March 2018.
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