Classic Poem

Come (my dear) whilst youth conspires
With the warmth of our desires;
Envious Time about thee watches,
And some Grace each minute snatches:
Now a spirit, now a Ray
From thy Eye he steals away,
Now he blasts some blooming Rose
Which upon thy fresh Cheek grows;
Gold now plunders in a Hair;
Now the Rubies doth impair
Of thy lips; and with sure hast
All thy wealth will take at last;
Onely that of which Thou mak'st
Use in time, from time Thou tak'st.