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

2 comments:

  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.

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

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