To
the Virgins, to Make Much of Time
by Robert
Herrick
|
| Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, |
| Old Time is still
a-flying: |
| And this same flower that smiles
to-day |
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 use your
time, |
| And while ye may, go
marry: |
| For having lost but once your
prime, |
You may for ever tarry.
|
| |
