The advice contained in this poem is not given so subtly nor so gracefully as it is in the other two poems of the trio—Ronsard’s and Waller’s—but the writer is neither a sweet singer like Ronsard nor a poet of nicer instincts like Waller. He was a man who did not scruple to “sully the purity of his style with impurity of sentiment.”

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.

The 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.