By 
To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles today
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 forever tarry.
–Robert Herrick
well that’s a cheery poem! 🙂 Love the dead flowers and the blue of the vase.
Mr. Herrick hails from around 1600 in England – rather a classical poem of the era, methinks, and apropos to the subject matter!