The Old Road to Paradise/Good-by, My Lover

by Margaret Widdemer

GOOD-BY, MY LOVER

All the flags stream abroad, and the crowds wave and cry—
And I watch for your face in the long lines marching by;

For my lips bade you go, but my heart would bid you stay—
Oh, lad, and will the war be long, and you so far away?

And your step as you marched, would it lag or fall more true
If you knew that my heart's gone to war to follow you?