Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TO SAXHAM, by THOMAS CAREW Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Though frost, and snow, lock'd from mine eyes Last Line: They cannot steal, thou giv'st so much. Subject(s): Houses; Saxham, England | ||||||||
THOUGH frost and snow lock'd from mine eyes That beauty which without door lies, Thy gardens, orchards, walks, that so I might not all thy pleasures know ; Yet, Saxham, thou within thy gate Art of thyself so delicate, So full of native sweets, that bless Thy roof with inward happiness, As neither from, nor to thy store Winter takes aught, or spring adds more. The cold and frozen air had starved Much poor, if not by thee preserved, Whose prayers have made thy table blest With plenty, far above the rest. The season hardly did afford Coarse cates unto thy neighbours' board, Yet thou hadst dainties, as the sky Had only been thy volary ; Or else the birds, fearing the snow Might to another deluge grow, The pheasant, partridge, and the lark Flew to thy house, as to the Ark. The willing ox of himself came Home to the slaughter with the lamb, And every beast did thither bring Himself, to be an offering. The scaly herd more pleasure took, Bathed in thy dish than in the brook ; Water, earth, air, did all conspire To pay their tributes to thy fire, Whose cherishing flames themselves divide Through every room, where they deride The night and cold abroad ; whilst they, Like suns within, keep endless day. Those cheerful beams send forth their light To all that wander in the night, And seem to beckon from aloof The weary pilgrim to thy roof, Where if, refresh'd, he will away, He's fairly welcome ; or, if stay, Far more ; which he shall hearty find Both from the master and the hind : The stranger's welcome each man there Stamp'd on his cheerful brow doth wear, Nor doth this welcome or his cheer Grow less, 'cause he stays longer here : There's none observes, much less repines, How often this man sups or dines. Thou hast no porter at thy door T' examine or keep back the poor ; Nor locks nor bolts : thy gates have bin Made only to let strangers in ; Untaught to shut, they do not fear To stand wide open all the year, Careless who enters, for they know Thou never didst deserve a foe : And as for thieves, thy bounty's such, They cannot steal, thou giv'st so much. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DEPOSITION FROM LOVE by THOMAS CAREW A PASTORAL DIALOGUE: SHEPHERD, NYMPH, CHORUS by THOMAS CAREW A PRAYER TO THE WIND by THOMAS CAREW AN ELEGY UPON THE DEATH OF DOCTOR DONNE, DEAN OF PAUL'S by THOMAS CAREW BOLDNESS IN LOVE by THOMAS CAREW DISDAIN RETURNED by THOMAS CAREW EPITAPH ON THE LADY MARY VILLIERS [OR VILLERS] (1) by THOMAS CAREW EPITAPH ON THE LADY MARY VILLIERS [OR VILLERS] (2) by THOMAS CAREW INGRATEFUL [OR UNGRATEFUL] BEAUTY THREATENED by THOMAS CAREW |
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