In Youth Is Pleasure

In a harbour grene aslepe whereas I lay,

The byrdes sang swete in the middes of the day,

I dreaméd fast of mirth and play:

In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.

Methought I walked still to and fro,

And from her company I could not go—

But when I waked it was not so:

In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.