Gather ye rose-buds while ye may: <br />Old Time is still a-flying; <br />And this same flower that smiles to-day, <br />To-morrow will be dying. <br /> <br />The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun, <br />The higher he's a-getting, <br />The sooner will his race be run, <br />And nearer he's to setting. <br /> <br />That age is best, which is the first, <br />When youth and blood are warmer; <br />But being spent, the worse, and worst <br />Times, still succeed the former. <br /> <br />--Then be not coy, but use your time, <br />And while ye may, go marry; <br />For having lost but once your prime, <br />You may for ever tarry.<br /><br />Robert Herrick<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-virgins-to-make-much-of-time/
