To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

venitoju's version from 2017-11-30 16:05


Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
      Old Time is still a-flying;
And this 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.