Come, let us go while we are in our prime;
And take the harmless folly of the time.
‎We shall grow old apace, and die
‎Before we know our liberty.
‎Our life is short, and our days run
‎As fast away as does the sun;
And, as a vapour or a drop of rain,
Once lost, can ne'er be found again,
‎So when or you or I are made
‎A fable, song, or fleeting shade,
‎All love, all liking, all delight
Lies drowned with us in endless night.
Then while time serves, and we are but decaying,
Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying.