SONG--Ry HARRrc.
Gather ye rose buds while ye may,

 Old Time is still flying; And this same flower that smiles to-day,

 Tomorrow may be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he's a getting, .rLe secn CT will his racr-te r.n

 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 will succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time,

 And while ye may, go marry, For, having lost but once your prime, He may for ever tarry.