I cannot say
and I will not say
That he is dead-
He is just away!
With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand
He has wandered into an unknown land,
And left us dreaming
how very fair
It needs must be, since he lingers there.
And you- O you
who the wildest yearn
For the old-time step and the glad return-
Think of him
faring on
as dear
In the love of There
as the love of Here;
And loyal still
as he gave the blows
Of his warrior-strength
to his country’s foes-
Mild and gentle
as he was brave-
When the sweetest love of his life he gave
To simple things- : Where the violets grew
Blue as the eyes they were likened to
The touches of his hands have strayed
As reverently as his lips have prayed:
When the little brown thrush
that harshly chirred
Was dear to him as the mocking-bird;
And he pitied as much as a man in pain
A writhing honey-bee wet with rain-
Think of him still as the same, I say:
He is not dead -
he is just away!
Away by James Whitcomb Riley
