Come, let us go while we are in our prime; And take the harmless folly of the time. ‎We shall grow old apace, and die ‎Before we know our liberty. ‎Our life is short, and our days run ‎As fast away as does the sun; And, as a vapour or a drop of rain, Once lost, can ne'er be found again, ‎So when or you or I are made ‎A fable, song, or fleeting shade, ‎All love, all liking, all delight Lies drowned with us in endless night. Then while time serves, and we are but decaying, Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying.