WE know not what a day shall bring, what brand of weal or woe; so let us smile and let us sing, and trip fantastic toe. We may feel sure tomorrow's sun will hide, the whole day long; and when all things are said and done, our guesses will be wrong. We may insist that dark green grief tomorrow's brow will wear; and yet the dawn may bring relief from all the woes we bear. No man should look ahead and say, "Tomorrow is a frost, so I shall wail around today, and weep, and blame the cost." And so, as I have often said, in dirges fierce but brief, it's foolishment to look ahead for further stores of grief. It's vain to rend our beards and say, "Tomorrow's charged with fate"; far better to enjoy today, before it pulls its freight. This day is ours, this cheerful morn; all yesterdays are dead; all other days are yet unborn, the stretch of days ahead. This day is ours, the dear, sweet thing, until it ambles by; so let us dance and let us sing, and throw our hats on high. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ELEGY: TO AN OLD BEAUTY by THOMAS PARNELL AGAMEMNON: CHORUS by AESCHYLUS IN THE FOREST by ELINOR PETERSON ALLEN BEAUTY by WILLIMINA L. ARMSTRONG REMINISCENCE by LYLE BARTSCHER THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 50. FAREWELL TO JULIET (12) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE WORLD'S RECORD by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |