Classic Poem

You have packed up your duffle and put out your fire,
There is nothing ahead but the trail,
But the trail that leads up to the hill you desire —
You will come nevermore to the vale.
'Twas a shelter from storm and a home for the night,
'Twas a place for a fire and a snack;
You are through with it now, you are off with the light —
But you stop and you take a look back.

'Twas a spot for a camp such as seldom you find,
With a slope that would drain it of wet;
There was green grass in front, there was timber behind,
And the deadwood was easy to get.
'Twas a bed and a roof for the wandering one,
'Twas a rest and a refuge for Jack;
Now you're off to the east and you're up with the sun —
But you stop and you take a look back.

And this life is just that from beginning to end:
It's a camp, and a hike, and a camp.
It is greeting a stranger, farewell to a friend,
Ev'ry morning new timber to tramp.
For we can not remain and we can not return,
We must follow old Time in his track;
But the campfires of old in our memory burn —
And we stop and we take a look back.