To the Virgins
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.
The age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, 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