Full Lyrics
Ah, sweetheart, let us hurry / We still have time.
Delaying thus, we bury / Our mutual prime.
Beauty’s bright gift shall perish / As leaves grow sere;
All that we have and cherish / Shall disappear.
The cheek of roses fadeth / Gray grows the head;
And fire the eyes evadeth / And passion’s dead.
The mouth, love’s honeyed winner / Is formless, cold;
The hand, like snow, gets thinner / And thou art old!
So let us taste the pleasure / That youth endears,
Ere we are called to measure / The flying years.
Give, as thou lov’st and livest / Thy love to me,
Even though, in what thou givest / My loss should be!
