Wave your hand to him! Let him go
Back from the dusty paths we stray,
To the land where his boyhood's rivers flow;
He is not dead—he is just away,
Gone to laugh at 'Lizabuth Ann,
And swap old yarns with the Raggedy Man.
Hush! Do you hear, in the distance dim,
Faint and sweet as an elfin tune,
Orphant Annie is calling him,
Counting him in with the old-time rune—
Intry, mintry, eatery, corn,
Apple blossom and apple thorn.
Wave your hand to him—call good-bye!
Faintly his answer echoes back;
Voices of children eagerly
Lure him on by the fairy track
To the wonder-world, where all hearts are gay;
He is not dead, he is just—away.