Young and Old

When all the world is young, lad,    
    And all the trees are green;    
And every goose a swan, lad,    
    And every lass a queen;    
Then hey for boot and horse, lad,    
    And round the world away;    
Young blood must have its course, lad,    
    And every dog its day.

When all the world is old, lad,    
    And all the trees are brown;    
And all the sport is stale, lad,    
    And all the wheels run down;    
Creep home, and take your place there,    
    The spent and maimed among:    
God grant you find one face there,    
    You loved when all was young.