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Edgar Guest - Care-Free Youth
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The skies are blue and the sun is out 
    and the grass is green and soft 
And the old charm`s back in the apple tree 
    and it calls a boy aloft; 
And the same low voice that the old don`t hear, 
    but the care-free youngsters do, 
Is calling them to the fields and streams 
    and the joys that once I knew. 
And if youth be wild desire for play 
    and care is the mark of men, 
Beneath the skin that Time has tanned 
    I`m a madcap youngster then. 

Far richer than king with his crown of gold 
    and his heavy weight of care 
Is the sunburned boy with his stone-bruised feet 
    and his tousled shock of hair; 
For the king can hear but the cry of hate 
    or the sickly sound of praise, 
And lost to him are the voices sweet 
    that called in his boyhood days. 
Far better than ruler, with pomp and power 
    and riches, is it to be 
The urchin gay in his tattered clothes 
    that is climbing the apple tree. 

Oh, once I heard all the calls that come 
    to the quick, glad ears of boys, 
And a certain spot on the river bank 
    told me of its many joys, 
And certain fields and certain trees 
    were loyal friends to me, 
And I knew the birds, and I owned a dog, 
    and we both could hear and see. 
Oh, never from tongues of men have dropped 
    such messages wholly glad 
As the things that live in the great outdoors 
    once told to a little lad. 

And I`m sorry for him who cannot hear 
    what the tall trees have to say, 
Who is deaf to the call of a running stream 
    and the lanes that lead to play. 
The boy that shins up the faithful elm 
    or sprawls on a river bank 
Is more richly blessed with the joys of life 
    than any old man of rank. 
For youth is the golden time of life, 
    and this battered old heart of mine 
Beats fast to the march of its old-time joys, 
    when the sun begins to shine.
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