SAYING GOOD-BYE

By Thomas Hardy

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!”