ASK me no more where Jove bestows, br When June is past, the fading rose; br For in your beauty's orient deep br These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. br br Ask me no more whither do stray br The golden atoms of the day; br For in pure love heaven did prepare br Those powders to enrich your hair. br br Ask me no more whither doth haste br The nightingale when May is past; br For in your sweet dividing throat br She winters and keeps warm her note. br br Ask me no more where those stars 'light br That downwards fall in dead of night; br For in your eyes they sit, and there br Fixed become as in their sphere. br br Ask me no more if east or west br The Phoenix builds her spicy nest; br For unto you at last she flies, br And in your fragrant bosom dies.