Robert Herrick  

 

 

 

 

 

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

 

 

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 for ever tarry.