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 forever
tarry.
Robert Herrick