Poem by Thomas Carew

The Primrose

Ask me why I send you here
The firstling of the infant year;
Ask me why I send to you
This primrose all bepearled with dew:
I straight will whisper in your ears,
The sweets of love are washed with tears.
Ask me why this flower doth show
So yellow, green, and sickly too;
Ask me why the stalk is weak
And bending, yet it doth not break:
I must tell you, these discover
What doubts and fears are in a lover. 

1. Epitaph for Maria Wentworth
2. Murdering Beauty
3. Secrecy Protested
4. I Do Not Love Thee For That Fair
5. Eternity of Love Protested

Caroline Southey The Primrose ("I saw it in my evening walk")

Print

1365 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version