Today, new-born from all my yesterdays, Lies in my cupped hand, a fragile, prophetic thing Just broken from its chrysalis with wings aflutter. What far flight shall it make with buoyant pinions? What fateful tomorrows shall it breed Before it folds its worn wings In the last twitchings of its dreamless sleep? I hold today in my hand and watch its unfolding. Then in faith I release it and wait the will of God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHRONICLE; A BALLAD by ABRAHAM COWLEY MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE: SONG by JOHN DRYDEN JOSEPH'S COAT by GEORGE HERBERT EIGHT O'CLOCK by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN EPITHALAMIUM by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN TWO VARIATIONS ON AN OLD NURSEY RHYME: 2 by EDITH SITWELL THE SONG OF THE CAMP by BAYARD TAYLOR CRY WOE, WOE, AND LET THE GOOD PREVAIL, FR. AGAMEMNON by AESCHYLUS |