I cannot say and I will not say
That he is dead—He's just away.
With a cheery smile and a wave of his 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;
Think of him still the same, I say—
He is not dead—he is just away.
