Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916.
Epitaph on Lady Mary VilliersThomas Carew (1595?–1639?)
T
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.