6 01 2010

This is one of the many standard cool poems from the past that you get to read if you major in English in college:

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 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.

—ROBERT HERRICK. 1591–1674

I don’t suppose any explanation of this text is necessary. 🙂




2 responses

7 01 2010
Efrem B Owens

How apropos that you post this poem today, Leonard. Because I am in pain (knees, ankles, shoulders, hips) from years of abuse to my body during my youth, I am truly feeling like my sun will soon a set for the final time in the very near future. LOL.

7 01 2010

I didn’t know you had that many or that serious afflictions. You always seem robust.

Take care of yourself. You’re like Gretchen, apparently, a person with afflictions who the rest of us would never think had any because you both always seem so cheerful. Such people are good to have around.

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