It Is No Use To Grumble And

The Jelly - The Jam And The Marmalade, And The Cherry-and Quince-'preserves' She Made! And The Sweet-sour Pickles Of Peach And Pear, With Cinnamon In 'em, And All Things Rare! And The More We Ate Was The More To Spare, Out To Old Aunt Mary's! Ah!

He Is Not Dead, He Is Just - Away.

One Naked Star Has Waded Through The Purple Shallows Of The Night, And Faltering As Falls The Dew It Drips Its Misty Light.

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.

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 - Oh You, Who The Wildest Yearn For An 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 As The Same. I Say, He Is Not Dead - He Is Just Away.