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 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.
Robert Herrick