To The Virgins To Make Much Of Time Lyrics

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