Ask me no more where Jove bestows, / When June is past, the...
Ask me no more where Jove bestows, / When June is past, the fading rose; / For in your beauty's orient deep / These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.
Ask me no more where Jove bestows, / When June is past, the fading rose; / For in your beauty's orient deep / These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.