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.