Turn me loose and let me be br Young once more and fancy free; br Let me wander where I will, br Down the lane and up the hill, br Trudging barefoot in the dust br In an age that knows no 'must,' br And no voice insistently br Speaks of duty unto me; br Let me tread the happy ways br Of those by-gone yesterdays. br br Fame had never whispered then, br Making slaves of eager men; br Greed had never called me down br To the gray walls of the town, br Offering frankincense and myrrh br If I'd be its prisoner; br I was free to come and go br Where the cherry blossoms blow, br Free to wander where I would, br Finding life supremely good. br br But I turned, as all must do, br From the happiness I knew br To the land of care and strife, br Seeking for a fuller life; br Heard the lure of fame and sought br That renown so dearly bought; br Listened to the voice of greed br Saying: 'These the things you need,' br Now the gray town holds me fast, br Prisoner to the very last. br br Age has stamped me as its own; br Youth to younger hearts has flown; br Still the cherry blossoms blow br In the land loused to know; br Still the fragrant clover spills br Perfume over dales and hills, br But I'm not allowed to stray br Where the young are free to play; br All the years will grant to me br Is the book of memory.