To The Virgins To Make Much Of Time

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying;

And this same flower that smiles today,

Tomorrow 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 worst and worst

Times still succeed the former.

~

Then be not coy, but use your time,

And while ye may, go marry;

For having lost but once your prime,

You may forever tarry.

~~~

By: Robert Herrick