To-morrow you will live, you always cry;
In what fair country does this morrow lie,
That 'tis read more

To-morrow you will live, you always cry;
In what fair country does this morrow lie,
That 'tis so mighty long ere it arrive?
Beyond the Indies does this morrow live?
'Tis so far-fetched, this morrow, that I fear
'Twill be both very old and very dear.
"To-morrow I will live," the fool does say:
To-day itself's too late;--the wise lived yesterday.

There's a fount about to stream,
There's a light about to beam,
There's a warmth about to read more

There's a fount about to stream,
There's a light about to beam,
There's a warmth about to glow,
There's a flower about to blow;
There's a midnight blackness changing
Into gray;
Men of thought and men of action,
Clear the way.

Leuconoe, close the book of fate,
For troubles are in store,
. . . .
read more

Leuconoe, close the book of fate,
For troubles are in store,
. . . .
Live today, tomorrow is not.

Too late is tomorrow's life; live for today.

Too late is tomorrow's life; live for today.

This day was yesterday to-morrow nam'd:
To-morrow shall be yesterday proclaimed:
To-morrow not yet come, not far read more

This day was yesterday to-morrow nam'd:
To-morrow shall be yesterday proclaimed:
To-morrow not yet come, not far away,
What shall to-morrow then be call'd? To-day.

A shining isle in a stormy sea,
We seek it ever with smiles and sighs;
To-day is read more

A shining isle in a stormy sea,
We seek it ever with smiles and sighs;
To-day is sad. In the bland To-be,
Serene and lovely To-morrow lies.

Dreaming of a to-morrow, which to-morrow
Will be as distant then as 'tis to-day.
- Lope read more

Dreaming of a to-morrow, which to-morrow
Will be as distant then as 'tis to-day.
- Lope Felix de Vega Carpio ("Tome Burguillos"),

In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining,
May my lot no less fortunate be
read more

In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining,
May my lot no less fortunate be
Than a snug elbow-chair can afford for reclining,
And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea;
With an ambling pad-pony to pace o'er the lawn,
While I carol away idle sorrow,
And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn,
Look forward with hope for to-morrow.

Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks,
And through the opening door that time unlocks
read more

Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks,
And through the opening door that time unlocks
Feel the fresh breathing of To-morrow creep.