Saying Good-Bye

(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!"