Thomas Hardy — Saying Good-bye

We are always saying        &nbsp “Good-bye, good-bye!” In work, in playing, In gloom, in gaying:        &nbsp At many a stage        &nbsp Of pilgrimage        &nbsp From youth to age        &nbsp We say, “Good-bye,        &nbsp       &nbsp Good-bye!” We are undiscerning        &nbsp Which go to sigh, Which will be yearning For soon returning;        &nbsp And which no more        &nbsp Will dark our door,        &nbsp Or tread our shore,        &nbsp But go to die,        &nbsp       &nbsp To die. Some come from roaming        &nbsp With joy again; Some, who come homing By stealth at gloaming,        &nbsp Had better have stopped        &nbsp Till death, and dropped        &nbsp By strange hands propped,        &nbsp Than come so fain,        &nbsp       &nbsp So fain. So, with this saying,        &nbsp “Good-bye, good-bye,” We speed their waying Without betraying        &nbsp Our grief, our fear        &nbsp No more to hear        &nbsp From them, close, clear,        &nbsp Again: “Good-bye,        &nbsp       &nbsp Good-bye!”