To Virgins (And Katt Williams)

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day



To-morrow 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.