Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs

    About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green，

    The night above the dingle starry，

    Time let me hail and climb

    Golden in the heydays of his eyes，

    And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns

    And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves

    Trail with daisies and barley

    Down the rivers of the windfall light.

    And as I was green and carefree， famous among the barns

    About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home，

    In the sun that is young once only，

    Time let me play and be

    Golden in the mercy of his means，

    And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman， the calves

    Sang to my horn， the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold，

    And the sabbath rang slowly

    In the pebbles of the holy streams.

    All the sun long it was running， it was lovely， the hay

    Fields high as the house， the tunes from the chimneys， it was air

    And playing， lovely and watery

    And fire green as grass.

    And nightly under the simple stars

    As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away，

    All the moon long I heard， blessed among stables， the nightjars

    Flying with the ricks， and the horses

    Flashing into the dark.

    And then to awake， and the farm， like a wanderer white

    With the dew， come back， the cock on his shoulder： it was all

    Shining， it was Adam and maiden，

    The sky gathered again

    And the sun grew round that very day.

    So it must have been after the birth of the simple light

    In the first， spinning place， the spellbound horses walking warm

    Out of the whinnying green stable

    On to the fields of praise.

    And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house

    Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long，

    In the sun born over and over，

    I ran my heedless ways，

    My wishes raced through the house high hay

    And nothing I cared， at my sky blue trades， that time allows

    In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs

    Before the children green and golden

    Follow him out of grace，

    Nothing I cared， in the lamb white days， that time would take me

    Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand，

    In the moon that is always rising，

    Nor that riding to sleep

    I should hear him fly with the high fields

    And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.

    Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means，

    Time held me green and dying

    Though I sang in my chains like the sea.