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.

That 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 for ever tarry.

 …To The Virgins, To Make Much Of Time was the YOLO of 1648.