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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507525" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To The Virgins, To Make Much Of Time</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507525" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Gather ye rose-buds while ye may:<br>Old Time is still a-flying;<br>And this same flower that smiles to-day,<br>To-morrow will be dying.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507525" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun,<br>The higher he's a-getting,<br>The sooner will his race be run,<br>And nearer he's to setting.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507525" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">That age is best, which is the first,<br>When youth and blood are warmer;<br>But being spent, the worse, and worst<br>Times, still succeed the former.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507525" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">--Then be not coy, but use your time,<br>And while ye may, go marry;<br>For having lost but once your prime,<br>You may for ever tarry.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Robert+Herrick">Robert Herrick</a></strong></div>

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