Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a flying: And this same flower that smiles to day, Tomorrow will be dying.
Thus times do shift, each thing his turn does hold; New things succeed, as former things grow old.
A spark neglected makes a mighty fire.
O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine
Like will to like, each creature loves his kind.
Fain would I kiss my Julia's dainty leg, Which is as white and hairless as an egg.