TO THE VIRGINS, TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

     Old Time is still a- flying;

Add this same flower that smiles today

     To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,

     The higher he’s a-getting,

The sooner will his race be run,

     And nearer he’s to setting.

That age is best which is the first,

     When youth and blood are warmer;

But being spent, the worse, and worst

     Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but us your time,

     And while ye my, go marry;

For having lost but once your prime;

     You may for ever tarry.

              by:  Robert Herrick