Come, let us goe, while we are in our prime;
And take the harmlesse follie of the time.
  We shall grow old apace, and die
  Before we know our liberty.
  Our life is short; and our dayes run
  As fast away as do’s the Sunne;
And as a vapour, or a drop of raine
Once lost, can ne’r be found againe:
  So when or you or I are made
  A fable, song, or fleeting shade;
  All love, all liking, all delight
  Lies drown’d with us in endlesse night.
Then while time serves, and we are but decaying;
Come, my Corinna, come, let’s goe a Maying.

- Robert Herrick