To the Virgins to Make Much of Time by Ben Moore Lyrics

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 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