Explore "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time" by Alice Meynell on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
GATHER ye rose-buds 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.