Nehaveigur

Gather ye roses while ye may, 
Old time is still a-flying; 
A world where beauty fleets away 
Is no world for denying. 

Come lads and lasses, fall to play 
Lose no more time in sighing 
The very flowers you pluck to-day 
To-morrow will be dying; 

And all the flowers are crying, 
And all the leaves have tongues to say,- 
Gather ye roses while ye may. 

Robert Louis Stevenson: Gather Ye Roses