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.

***

This poem was written by a 17th-century English poet named Robert Herrick. Isn't it beautiful? I was reading about him recently on Wikipedia, and was struck with this sentence: "The over-riding message of Herrick’s work is that life is short, the world is beautiful, love is splendid, and we must use the short time we have to make the most of it."

For as much as people poke fun at me for all my random ideas (get my Master's in Azerbaijan! No, wait, Rome!), it sure is fun to dream like crazy.