To the Virgins, to Relish All of Time

(apologies to Robert Herrick of 1648)

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
  Old Time is e'er a-flying;
And this same bloom that smiles today,
  Tomorrow will be dying.

That glorious star above, the sun,
  The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
  The nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
   When mind and heart are warmer;
Youth being spent, the weak, and worst
  Times will succeed the former.

So be not coy, but use your time,
  And while ye may, go fuck;
Or having lost your prime, you'll be
  Forever out of luck.