Ask me no more whither doth stray
The golden atoms of the day;
For in pure love heaven did prepare
Those powders to enrich your hair.
Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale when May is past;
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters and keeps warm her note.
Ask me no more where those stars light
That downwards fall in dead of night;
For in your eyes they sit, and there
Fixèd become as in their sphere.
Ask me no more if East or West
The Phoenix builds her spicy nest;
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.
Previous | List of poems | Top | Home | Next