Lips And Eyes.

In Celia's face a question did arise,
Which were more beautiful, her lips or eyes ?
We, said the eyes, send forth those pointed darts
Which pierce the hardest adamantine hearts.
From us, repli'd the lips, proceed those blisses
Which lovers reap by kind words and sweet kisses.
Then wept the eyes, and from their springs did pour
Of liquid oriental pearl a shower ;
Whereat the lips, moved with delight and pleasure,
Through a sweet smile unlock'd their pearly treasure
And bad Love judge, whether did add more grace
Weeping or smiling pearls to Celia's face.

Thomas Carew

Thomas Carew was an English poet, among the 'Cavalier' group of Caroline poets that included Richard Lovelace, John Suckling, and Robert Herrick. Renowned for his lyrical intensity and elegance, Carew's verse often explored themes of love and beauty. His works include 'A Rapture,' considered one of the great erotic poems in English, and 'An Elegy upon the Death of the Dean of St Paul's, Dr John Donne,' a tribute to his friend and mentor. Carew's influence is noted among contemporaries and later poets.

Thomas Carew

A Divine Mistress

Thomas Carew, Simple Poetry

Disdain Returned

Thomas Carew, Simple Poetry

To A Lady That Desired I Would Love Her

Thomas Carew, Simple Poetry

Song - Murdering Beauty

Thomas Carew, Simple Poetry

English

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Disdain Returned

He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires;
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.

But a smooth and steadfast mind,
Gentle thoughts and calm desires,
Hearts with equal love combind,
Kindle never-dying fires.
Where these are not, I despise
Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes.

No tears, Celia, now shall win
My resolvd heart to return;
I have searchd thy soul within,
And find nought, but pride, and scorn;
I have learnd thy arts, and now
Can disdain as much as thou.
Some power, in my revenge, convey
That love to her I cast away.

Thomas Carew

Eyes: A Fragment.

How eloquent are eyes!
Not the rapt poet's frenzied lay
When the soul's wildest feelings stray
Can speak so well as they.
How eloquent are eyes!
Not music's most impassioned note
On which Love's warmest fervours float
Like them bids rapture rise.

Love, look thus again, -
That your look may light a waste of years,
Darting the beam that conquers cares
Through the cold shower of tears.
Love, look thus again!

Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Unfading Beauty

He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires:
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.

But a smooth and steadfast mind,
Gentle thoughts and calm desires,
Hearts with equal love combined,
Kindle never-dying fires.
Where these are not, I despise
Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes.

Thomas Carew

Celia Beeding, To The Surgeon

Fond man, that canst believe her blood
Will from those purple channels flow;
Or that the pure untainted flood
Can any foul distemper know;
Or that thy weak steel can incise
The crystal case wherein it lies:

Know, her quick blood, proud of his seat,
Runs dancing through her azure veins;
Whose harmony no cold nor heat
Disturbs, whose hue no tincture stains:
And the hard rock wherein it dwells
The keenest darts of love repels.

But thou repli'st, "behold, she bleeds!"
Fool! thou 'rt deceiv'd, and dost not know
The mystic knot whence this proceeds,
How lovers in each other grow:
Thou struck'st her arm, but 'twas my heart
Shed all the blood, felt all the smart.

Thomas Carew

A Better Answer

Dear Cloe, how blubber'd is that pretty Face?
Thy Cheek all on Fire, and Thy Hair all uncurl'd:
Pr'ythee quit this Caprice; and (as old Falstaf says)
Let Us e'en talk a little like Folks of This World.

How can'st Thou presume, Thou hast leave to destroy
The Beauties, which Venus but lent to Thy keeping?
Those Looks were design'd to inspire Love and Joy:
More ord'nary Eyes may serve People for weeping.

To be vext at a Trifle or two that I writ,
Your Judgment at once, and my Passion You wrong:
You take that for Fact, which will scarce be found Wit:
Odd's Life! must One swear to the Truth of a Song?

What I speak, my fair Cloe, and what I write, shews
The Diff'rence there is betwixt Nature and Art:
I court others in Verse; but I love Thee in Prose:
An...

Matthew Prior

Black And Blue Eyes.

        The brilliant black eye
        May in triumph let fly
All its darts without Caring who feels 'em;
        But the soft eye of blue,
        Tho' it scatter wounds too,
Is much better pleased when it heals 'em--
        Dear Fanny!
Is much better pleased when it heals 'em.

        The black eye may say,
        "Come and worship my ray--
"By adoring, perhaps you may move me!"
        But the blue eye, half hid,
        Says from under its lid,
"I love and am yours, if you love me!"
        Yes, Fanny!
        The blue eye, half hid,
        Says, from under its lid,
"I love and am yours, if you love me!"

        Come tell me, then, why
        In that lovely blue eye
Not a charm of its tint I discover;
        Oh wh...

Thomas Moore