To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old time is still a-flying;

And the 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 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 forever tarry.

Robert Herrick

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