More Herrick, Less Virgins

What can I say? I read old poetry. Unlike most people, I find the carpe diem theme a little tired and depressing, but necessary nonetheless. Maybe it's the old conjuring by abjuring thing: you can't say "don't waste time" without pondering the ways you waste time. Maybe that's also why I have Milton's "When I Consider How My Light Is Spent" committed to memory. 

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time
by Robert Herrick
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.