Gather Ye Rosebuds

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

 Good-morrow to the day so fair, 
   Good-morning, sir to you;
 Good-morrow to mine own torn hair
   Bedabbled with the dew.

 Good morning to this primrose too,
   Good-morrow to each maid
 That will with flowers the tomb bestrew
   Wherein my love is laid.

 Ah! woe is me, woe, woe is me!
   Alack and well-a-day!
 For pity, Sir, find out that bee
   Which bore my love away.

 I'll seek him in your bonnet brave,
   I'll seek him in your eyes;
 Nay now I think they've made his grave
   I' th' bed of strawberries.

 I'll seek him there; I know ere this
   The cold, cold earth doth shake him;
 But I will go, or send a kiss
   by you, sir, to awake him.

 Pray hurt him not; Though he be dead,
   He knows well who do love him,
 And who with green turfs rear his head,
   And who do rudely move him.

 He's soft and tender (pray take heed);
   With bands of cowslips bind him,
 And bring him home but 'tis decreed,
   That I shall never find him!

Bid me to live, and I will live
  Thy Protestant to be:
Or bid me love, and I will give
  A loving heart to thee.

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
  A heart as sound and free,
As in the whole world thou canst find,
 That heart I'll give to thee.

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,
  To honour thy Decree:
Or bid it languish quite away,
  And 't shall doe so for thee.

Bid me to weep, and I will weep,
  While I have eyes to see:
And having none, yet I will keep
  A heart to weep for thee.

Bid me despair, and I'll despair,
  Under that cypress-tree:
Or bid me die, and I will dare
  E'en Death, to die for thee.

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me:
And has command of ev'ry part,
To live and die for thee.

Love's a thing, as I do hear,
Ever full of pensive fear ;
Rather than to which I'll fall,
Trust me, I'll not like at all.
If to love I should intend,
Let my hair then stand an end :
And that terror likewise prove,
Fatal to me in my love.
But if horror cannot slake
Flames which would an entrance make,
Then the next thing I desire
Is, to love and live i' th' fire.

Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night
Has not as yet begun
To make a seizure on the light,
Or to seal up the sun.

No marigolds yet closed are;
No shadows great appear;
Nor doth the early shepherds' star
Shine like a spangle here.

Stay but till my Julia close
Her life-begetting eye,
And let the whole world then dispose
Itself to live or die.