To the Virgins, To Make Much of Time
by Robert Herrick 
 
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.