Murdering Beauty Shunned
Thomas Carew
1595 to 1640
I’L gaze no more on her bewitching face,
Since ruine harbours there in every place;
For my enchanted soul alike she drowns
With calmes and tempests of her smiles and frowns.
I’I love no more those cruel eyes of hers,
Which pleas’d, or anger’d, still are murderers;
For if she dart (like lightning) through the air
Her beams of wrath, she kills me with despair;
If she behold me with a pleasing eye,
I surfet with excess of joy, and dye.
Thomas Carew's Murdering Beauty Shunned
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