Poem by Thomas Carew

Another

THIS little vault, this narrow room,
Of Love and Beauty is the tomb;
The dawning beam, that 'gan to clear
Our clouded sky, lies darken'd here,
For ever set to us: by Death
Sent to enflame the World Beneath.
'Twas but a bud, yet did contain
More sweetness than shall spring again;
A budding Star, that might have grown
Into a Sun when it had blown.
This hopeful Beauty did create
New life in Love's declining state;
But now his empire ends, and we
From fire and wounding darts are free;
   His brand, his bow, let no man fear:
   The flames, the arrows, all lie here. 

1. Epitaph for Maria Wentworth
2. Celia Beeding, To The Surgeon
3. The Primrose
4. Secrecy Protested
5. Murdering Beauty

Thomas Beddoes Another ("Tis a moon-tinted primrose, with a well")

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