He Is Not DeadI cannot say, and I will not sayThat he is dead. He is just away.With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand,He has wandered into an unknown landAnd left us dreaming how very fairIt needs must be, since he lingers there.And you—oh you, who the wildest yearnFor an old-time step, and the glad return,Think of him faring on, as dearIn the love of There as the love of Here.Think of him still as the same. I say,He is not dead—he is just away.

A Parting GuestWhat delightful hosts are they—Life and Love!Lingeringly I turn away,This late hour, yet glad enoughThey have not withheld from meTheir high hospitality.So, with face lit with delightAnd all gratitude, I stayYet to press their hands and say,Thanks.—So fine a time! Good night.

It is no use to grumble and complain It's just as cheap and easy to rejoice When God sorts out the weather and sends rain-Why rain's my choice.

O it sets my heart a clickin' like the tickin' of a clock When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

And he shall reign a goodly king And sway his hand o'er every clime With peace writ on his signet ring Who bides his time.

Who bides his time tastes the sweet Of honey in the saltiest tear And though he fares with slowest feet Joy runs to meet him drawing near.

As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known So I turn the leaves of Fancy till in shadowy design I find the smiling features of an old sweetheart of mine.

To make the world a friendly place one must show it a friendly face.