Classic Poem

One huge highway is this world of ours,
And along it we men are but hurriers;
For on horse and on foot each mortal scours,
What are we footmen and couriers?

Our kerchiefs we wave as we pass on the road,
And nod from the carriage a greeting;
But no time to tarry and kiss is allowed,
For onward the swift steeds are fleeting.

Scarce have we met at the same posthouse,
Oh! much beloved Prince Alexander,
When the postboy's horn for departure blows,
And blows us far asunder.