Saturday, June 27, 2009


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.
.............................Charles Kingsley


African gurl said...

where was this pic taken, you still traveling the world?
Love the poem too.

Anonymous said...

love, love the poem ...fiona

sam said...

nice =)

streetsider said...

great poem!! i have felt this poem since i was about 12