To His Coy Mistress

Had we but world enough, and time, this coyness, Lady, were no crime.

We would sit down and think which way to walk and pass our long love's day.

Thou by the Indian Ganges' side shouldst rubies find: I by the tide of Humber would complain.

I would Love you ten years before the Flood, and you should, if you please, refuse till the conversion of the Jews.

An hundred years should go to praise thine eyes and

Two hundred to adore each breast; But thirty thousand to the rest;

An age at least to every part, and the last age should show your heart;

For Lady, you deserve this state, nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.

Thy beauty shall no more be found, Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound My echoing song:

Then worms shall try That long preserved virginity, And your quaint honour turn to dust, and into ashes all my lust:

The grave's a fine and private place, but none, I think, do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue sits

Now let us sport us while we may, and now, like amorous birds of prey, rather at

Let us roll all our strength and all our sweetness up into

Thus, though we cannot make our sun stand still, yet we will make him run.

Gagahi