Where I cannot, you have gone.
You’ll not come smiling back at dawn,
However long I linger here.
But night will pass, and I will see
The sun and morning on the trees
And know, though gone, you are yet near.
Now my own path calls and I must go,
Though, like you, I don’t wish it so.
But what of that? It’s not a choice.
Still, if a parting word were mine
To send to you, I would not pine,
But say instead in quiet voice,
Fare thee well, my friend,
Fare thee well.