To The Virgins to Make Much of Time
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may
Ole times are still a flying
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
That glorious lamp of heaven the sun
The high he's a getting
No sooner will the race be run
The nearer he's to setting.
That age is best, which is the first
When youth and blood are warmer
Then being spent the worse and worst
Times still succeed the former.
So be not coy but use your time
And while ye may go marry
For having lost but once your prime
Ye may forever terry.
By Robert Herrick
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