Classic Poem

Learn, Lads and Lasses, of my Garden,
That Time doth Thorns and Thistles harden,
And that ill Weeds make no good hay;
Why then should any of you say
We will be better, when we're older [?]
I am afraid, you shall be Colder
In Soul, in Spirit, and in Flesh:
Therefore mend, mend! whilst young and fresh.