Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529301" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To A. L. Persuasions to Love.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THINK not, 'cause men flattering say<br>You're fresh as April, sweet as May,<br>Bright as is the morning star,<br>That you are so ; or, though you are,<br>Be not therefore proud, and deem<br>All men unworthy your esteem :<br>For, being so, you lose the pleasure<br>Of being fair, since that rich treasure<br>Of rare beauty and sweet feature<br>Was bestow'd on you by nature<br>To be enjoy'd ; and 'twere a sin<br>There to be scarce, where she hath bin<br>So prodigal of her best graces.<br>Thus common beauties and mean faces<br>Shall have more pastime, and enjoy<br>The sport you lose by being coy.<br>Did the thing for which I sue<br>Only concern myself, not you ;<br>Were men so framed as they alone<br>Reap'd all the pleasure, women none ;<br>Then had you reason to be scant :<br>But 'twere a madness not to grant<br>That which affords (if you consent)<br>To you the giver, more content<br>Than me, the beggar. Oh, then be<br>Kind to yourself, if not to me.<br>Starve not yourself, because you may<br>Thereby make me pine away ;<br>Nor let brittle beauty make<br>You your wiser thoughts forsake ;<br>For that lovely face will fail.<br>Beauty's sweet, but beauty's frail,<br>'Tis sooner past, 'tis sooner done,<br>Than summer's rain, or winter's sun ; <br>Most fleeting, when it is most dear,<br>'Tis gone, while we but say 'tis here.<br>These curious locks, so aptly twined,<br>Whose every hair a soul doth bind,<br>Will change their auburn hue and grow<br>White and cold as winter's snow.<br>That eye, which now is Cupid's nest,<br>Will prove his grave, and all the rest<br>Will follow ; in the cheek, chin, nose,<br>Nor lily shall be found, nor rose.<br>And what will then become of all<br>Those whom now you servants call ?<br>Like swallows, when your summer's done,<br>They'll fly, and seek some warmer sun.<br>Then wisely choose one to your friend<br>Whose love may, when your beauties end,<br>Remain still firm : be provident,<br>And think, before the summer's spent,<br>Of following winter ; like the ant, <br>In plenty hoard for time of scant.<br>Cull out, amongst the multitude<br>Of lovers, that seek to intrude<br>Into your favour, one that may<br>Love for an age, not for a day ;<br>One that will quench your youthful fires,<br>And feed in age your hot desires.<br>For when the storms of time have moved<br>Waves on that cheek which was beloved,<br>When a fair lady's face is pined,<br>And yellow spread where once red shined ;<br>When beauty, youth, and all sweets leave her,<br>Love may return, but lover never :<br>And old folks say there are no pains<br>Like itch of love in aged veins.<br>O love me, then, and now begin it,<br>Let us not lose this present minute ;<br>For time and age will work that wrack<br>Which time or age shall ne'er call back.<br>The snake each year fresh skin resumes,<br>And eagles change their aged plumes ;<br>The faded rose each spring receives<br>A fresh red tincture on her leaves :<br>But if your beauties once decay,<br>You never know a second May.<br>O then, be wise, and whilst your season<br>Affords you days for sport, do reason ;<br>Spend not in vain your life's short hour,<br>But crop in time your beauty's flower,<br>Which will away, and doth together<br>Both bud and fade, both blow and wither.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Carew">Thomas Carew</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529301" data-title="To A. L. Persuasions to Love. de Thomas Carew" data-description="THINK not, 'cause men flattering say
You're fresh as April, sweet as May,
Bright as is the morning star,
That you are so ; or, though you are,
Be not therefore proud, and deem
All men unworthy your esteem :
For, being so, you lose the pleasure
Of ..."></div>
</div>
</div>