When youth is with us, all things seem
But lightly to be wished and won;
We snare to-morrow in a dream,
And take our toll for work undone;
“For life is long and time a stream
That sleeps and sparkles in the sun--
What need of any haste?” we say,
“To-morrow’s longer than to-day.”
And when to-morrow shall destroy
The heaven of our dreams, in vain
Our hurrying manhood we employ
To build the vanished bliss again;
We have no leisure to enjoy,
“So few the years that yet remain,
So much to do, and ah!” we say,
“To-morrow’s shorter than to-day.”
But when our hands are worn and weak,
And still our labours seem unblest,
And time goes past us like a bleak
Last twilight waning to the west,
“It is not here--the bliss we seek,
Too brief is life for happy rest;
What need of any haste?” we say,
“To-morrow’s longer than to-day.”