Song by Alice Meynell — Read

ASK me no more where Jove bestows,

When June is past, the fading rose;

For in your beauties, orient deep,

These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.

Ask me no more whither do 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 if east or west / The phœnix builds her spicy nest; / For unto you at last she flies, / And in your fragrant bosom dies!