Thursday, May 8, 2014

while ye may

Interesting this poem popped into my memory yesterday while sitting in traffic and admiring these wildflowers and then~it showed up as today's Writer's Almanac selection.

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 for ever tarry.

"To the Virgins to Make Much of Time" by Robert Herrick. Public Domain


  1. Ah, good old Robert Herrick, a man I feel overly obsessed with women and women as flowers, and marrying some woman named Julia of whom all parts were like a flower. I find myself faintly amused thinking of him, in conjunction with cherries and roses and womanhood.

    1. Pretty much only like the first line of this.