Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.
Poems of Home: IV. YouthThe Old, Old Song
Charles Kingsley (18191875)W
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.
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.