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

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