Now that you too must shortly go the way <br />Which in these bloodshot years uncounted men <br />Have gone in vanishing armies day by day, <br />And in their numbers will not come again: <br />I must not strain the moments of our meeting <br />Striving for each look, each accent, not to miss, <br />Or question of our parting and our greeting, <br />Is this the last of all? is this—or this? <br /> <br />Last sight of all it may be with these eyes, <br />Last touch, last hearing, since eyes, hands, and ears, <br />Even serving love, are our mortalities, <br />And cling to what they own in mortal fears:— <br />But oh, let end what will, I hold you fast <br />By immortal love, which has no first or last.<br /><br />Eleanor Farjeon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/now-that-you-too/
