To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
. . .
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
. . .
Fair tree! for thy delightful shade
'Tis just that some return be made; . . .
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye, . . .