Thomas Carew: Persuasions to Joy, a Song
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Persuasions to Joy, a Song

1595?-1639?


IF 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 fruit destroys.

Or if that golden fleece must grow
For ever free from aged 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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