Classic Poem

(Song)

We are always saying
  ‘Good-bye, good-bye!’
In work, in playing,
In gloom, in gaying:
  At many a stage
  Of pilgrimage
  From youth to age
  We say, ‘Good-bye,
Good-bye!’

We are undiscerning
  Which go to sigh,
Which will be yearning
For soon returning;
  And which no more
  Will dark our door,
  Or tread our shore,
  But go to die,
To die.

Some come from roaming
  With joy again;
Some, who come homing
By stealth at gloaming,
  Had better have stopped
  Till death, and dropped
  By strange hands propped,
  Than come so fain,
So fain.

So, with this saying,
  ‘Good-bye, good-bye,’
We speed their waying
Without betraying
  Our grief, our fear
  No more to hear
  From them, close, clear,
  Again: ‘Good-bye,
Good-bye!’