a POEM:
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 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.
Robert Herrick, To The Virgins, to Make Much of Time
bob knows what up... in 1648!
posted by Anonymous @
2/07/2003 12:04:00 AM
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Friday, February 07, 2003  |
