MY TO-MORROW is but a flitting Fancy of the brain; God's TO-MORROW an angel sitting, Ready for joy or pain. My TO-MORROW has no soul, Dead as yesterdays; God's—a brimming silver bowl Of life that gleams and plays. My TO-MORROW, I mock you away! Shadowless nothing, thou! God's TO-MORROW, come, dear day, For God is in thee now. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE POPLAR by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM ODE IN MEMORY OF THE AMERICAN VOLUNTEERS FALLEN FOR FRANCE by ALAN SEEGER LEE TO THE REAR [MAY 12, 1864] by JOHN REUBEN THOMPSON EARTH TRIUMPHANT by CONRAD AIKEN AH, BIND MY HANDS by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS ON THE GRASSHOPPER by ANACREON SATIRE: 3 by AULUS PERSIUS FLACCUS EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 23. SOONER WOUNDED THAN CURED by PHILIP AYRES |