Away by James Whitcomb Riley — Read

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!