I like the Anglo-Saxon speech <br /> With its direct revealings; <br />It takes a hold, and seems to reach <br /> 'Way down into your feelings; <br />That some folk deem it rude, I know, <br /> And therefore they abuse it; <br />But I have never found it so,-- <br /> Before all else I choose it. <br />I don't object that men should air <br /> The Gallic they have paid for, <br />With "Au revoir," "Adieu, ma chère," <br /> For that's what French was made for. <br />But when a crony takes your hand <br /> At parting, to address you, <br />He drops all foreign lingo and <br /> He says, "Good-by--God bless you!" <br /> <br />This seems to me a sacred phrase, <br /> With reverence impassioned,-- <br />A thing come down from righteous days, <br /> Quaintly but nobly fashioned; <br />It well becomes an honest face, <br /> A voice that's round and cheerful; <br />It stays the sturdy in his place, <br /> And soothes the weak and fearful. <br />Into the porches of the ears <br /> It steals with subtle unction, <br />And in your heart of hearts appears <br /> To work its gracious function; <br />And all day long with pleasing song <br /> It lingers to caress you,-- <br />I'm sure no human heart goes wrong <br /> That's told "Good-by--God bless you!" <br /> <br />I love the words,--perhaps because, <br /> When I was leaving Mother, <br />Standing at last in solemn pause <br /> We looked at one another, <br />And I--I saw in Mother's eyes <br /> The love she could not tell me,-- <br />A love eternal as the skies, <br /> Whatever fate befell me; <br />She put her arms about my neck <br /> And soothed the pain of leaving, <br />And though her heart was like to break, <br /> She spoke no word of grieving; <br />She let no tear bedim her eye, <br /> For fear that might distress me, <br />But, kissing me, she said good-by, <br /> And asked our God to bless me.<br /><br />Eugene Field<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/good-bye-god-bless-you/
