Classic Poem

In a herber green, asleep where I lay,
The birds sang sweet in the mids of the day;
I dreamèd fast of mirth and play.
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.

Methought I walked still to and fro,
And from her company could not go;
But when I waked it was not so.
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.

Therefore my heart is surely pight

Of her alone to have a sight,
Which is my joy and heart's delight.
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.