Gather ye rosebuds…

Gather ye rosebuds…

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow 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 the 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 coy not, 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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