Classic Poem

Good-night! he sang out, as he passed me, awheel in the dark,
Though it chanced that we'd never changed words with each other by day;
And I turned to look after; and watched the diminishing spark
Of his crimson rear-light disappear down the tree-shadowed way.

Crumpled up 'neath his treacherous wheel, in a pitiful plight
They found the boy's body at dawn, at the foot of the brae —
And I wonder what moved that young heart, speeding into the night,
To wish an old stranger Good-Night! as he went on his way.