To pluck the fruits of love in youth
Is each wise woman's rule forsooth,
For when age creepeth o'er us, hence
Co also the sweet joys of sense,
And ill doth she her days employ
Who lets life pass without love's joy.
And if my counsel she despise,
Not knowing how 'tis just and wise,
Too late, alas! will she repent
When age is come, and beauty spent.
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