Charles Kingsley

(12 June 1819 – 23 January 1875 / Devon, England)

Young and Old


1 When all the world is young, lad,
2 And all the trees are green;
3 And every goose a swan, lad,
4 And every lass a queen;
5 Then hey for boot and horse, lad,
6 And round the world away!
7 Young blood must have its course, lad,
8 And every dog his day.

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

Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

Do you like this poem?
2 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read poems about / on: horse, dog, green, world, home, god, tree, running

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Young and Old by Charles Kingsley )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 1 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Writing For A Living Echoing Life Drama, Terence G. Craddock
  2. Tomorrow's Wager, Ritika Abigail
  3. All I Want..., Ritika Abigail
  4. *Where is Death? *, C. P. Sharma
  5. Oh! Palestine, Aminath Neena
  6. Questions Of The Dark..., Ritika Abigail
  7. Writing Written Classic Plot Our Lives, Terence G. Craddock
  8. Stripper Tit, Richard Thripp
  9. From Eed - aRe yOU. rEaLy. still DrOniNg.., sEaN nOrTh
  10. A Matter Of Words, Of Muses And Other Ghosts

Poem of the Day

poet Edmund Spenser

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]