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...VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 4. CAPRI by SARA TEASDALE THE GIANT PUFFBALL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TO A FAT LADY SEEN FROM THE TRAIN by FRANCES CROFTS DARWIN CORNFORD EPIGRAM: HERO AND LEANDER by JOHN DONNE THE HARVEST by EVA K. ANGLESBURG |