ROBERT HERRICK
To the Virgins to Make Much of Time

Gather ye rose-buds 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 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.





 14 April 1998; 2.0