The White Cliffs by Alice Duer Miller

Dear John: I'm going home. I write to say Good-by. My boat train leaves at break of day; It will be gone when this is in your hands. I've had enough of lovely foreign lands, Sightseeing, strangers, holiday and play; I'm going home to those who think the way I think, and speak as I do. Will you try To understand that this must be good-by? We are both rooted deeply in the soil Of our own countries. But I could not spoil Our happy memories with the stress and strain Of parting; if we never meet again, Be sure I shall remember till I die Your love, your laugh, your kindness. But--good-by. Please do not hate me; give the devil his due, This is an act of courage. Always, Sue.