when all the world is young,lad
And all the trees and green
And every goose a swan,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 wheels run down;
creep home,and take your place there,
the spent and maimed among,
Good grant you find one face there
you loved when all was young.