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 his 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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CHANNEL PASSAGE by RUPERT BROOKE THE MARCH INTO VIRGINIA by HERMAN MELVILLE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 40. AL-MUKIT by EDWIN ARNOLD A SOUTHERN NIGHT by MATTHEW ARNOLD TWO SONNETS: 2 by DAVID P. BERENBERG SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 25 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |