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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529276" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Celia Beeding, To the Surgeon</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529276" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Fond man, that canst believe her blood<br>Will from those purple channels flow;<br>Or that the pure untainted flood<br>Can any foul distemper know;<br>Or that thy weak steel can incise<br>The crystal case wherein it lies:</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529276" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Know, her quick blood, proud of his seat,<br>Runs dancing through her azure veins;<br>Whose harmony no cold nor heat<br>Disturbs, whose hue no tincture stains:<br>And the hard rock wherein it dwells<br>The keenest darts of love repels.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529276" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But thou repli'st, "behold, she bleeds!"<br>Fool! thou 'rt deceiv'd, and dost not know<br>The mystic knot whence this proceeds,<br>How lovers in each other grow:<br>Thou struck'st her arm, but 'twas my heart<br>Shed all the blood, felt all the smart.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Thomas+Carew">Thomas Carew</a></strong></div>

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