Andrew Marvell

from, 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
Shoudst 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.

...

Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.