The Old, Old Song - Charles Kingsley.

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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. http://poetry.poetryx.com/poems/10601/