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 forever tarry
Dead Poets - To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time Lyrics
Dead Poets - To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time Lyrics
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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 forever tarry
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 forever tarry
Writer: Robert Herrick
Copyright: Lyrics © MUSIC SALES CORPORATION, O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © MUSIC SALES CORPORATION, O/B/O DistroKid