I cannot say, and I will not say <br />That he is dead--. He is just away! <br /> <br />With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand <br />He has wandered into an unknown land, <br /> <br />And left us dreaming how very fair <br />It needs must be, since he lingers there. <br /> <br />And you-- O you, who the wildest yearn <br />For the old-time step and the glad return--, <br /> <br />Think of him faring on, as dear <br />In the love of There as the love of Here; <br /> <br />And loyal still, as he gave the blows <br />Of his warrior-strength to his country's foes--. <br /> <br />Mild and gentle, as he was brave--, <br />When the sweetest love of his life he gave <br /> <br />To simple things--: Where the violets grew <br />Blue as the eyes they were likened to, <br /> <br />The touches of his hands have strayed <br />As reverently as his lips have prayed: <br /> <br />When the little brown thrush that harshly chirred <br />Was dear to him as the mocking-bird; <br /> <br />And he pitied as much as a man in pain <br />A writhing honey-bee wet with rain--. <br /> <br />Think of him still as the same, I say: <br />He is not dead-- he is just away!<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/away-75/
