If Fortune with a smiling face
Strew roses on our way,
When shall we stoop to pick them up?
To-day, my love, to-day.
But should she frown with face of care,
And talk of coming sorrow,
When shall we grieve--if grieve we must?
To-morrow, love, to-morrow.
If those who 've wrong'd us own their faults
And kindly pity pray,
When shall we listen and forgive?
To-day, my love, to-day.
But if stern Justice urge rebuke,
And warmth from memory borrow,
When shall we chide--if chide we dare?
To-morrow, love, to-morrow.
If those to whom we owe a debt
Are harm'd unless we pay,
When shall we struggle to be just?
To-day, my love, to-day.
But if our debtor fail our hope,
And plead his ruin thorough,
When shall we weigh his breach of faith?
To-morrow, love, to-morrow.
If Love, estranged, should once again
His genial smile display,
When shall we kiss his proffer'd lips?
To-day, my love, to-day,
But, if he would indulge regret,
Or dwell with bygone sorrow,
When shall we weep--if weep we must?
To-morrow, love, to-morrow.
For virtuous acts and harmless joys
The minutes will not stay;
We 've always time to welcome them
To-day, my love, to-day.
But care, resentment, angry words,
And unavailing sorrow
Come far too soon, if they appear
To-morrow, love, to-morrow.