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 amoung: God grant you find one face there, You loved when all was young.
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We're having something a little different this year for Thanksgiving. Instead of a turkey, we're having a swan. You get more stuffing.
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Love your eyes that can see, your mind that can Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan.
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This wild swan of a world is no hunter's game.
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When the swan must fix his eye Upon a fading gleam,...
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The Teutons have been singing the swan song ever since they entered the ranks of history. They have always confounded truth with death.
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Poverty within is as dangerous as poverty without.
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Let music sound while he doth make his choice; Then if he lose he makes a swan-like end, Fading in music.
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I will play the swan, And die in music.
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And she, after swan-like singing her last and dying song, lies beside him, her lover.
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Were I a nightingale, I would act the part of a nightingale were I a swan, the part of a swan.
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