(one of those poems entirely too knowing for its own good, and dear to me for that reason:)

How you and I, who scale together yet
A little while the sweet, immortal height
No pilgrim may remember or forget,
As sure as the world turns, some granite night
Shall lie awake and know the gracious flame
Gone out forever on the mutual stone;
And call to mind that on the day you came
I was a child, and you a hero grown...

from Edna St Vincent Millay, Sonnet XXI