Flower-de-Luce (Collection)/To-morrow

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11422Flower-de-Luce — To-morrowHenry Wadsworth Longfellow


TO-MORROW.

'TIS late at night, and in the realm of sleep
My little lambs are folded like the flocks;
From room to room I hear the wakeful clocks
Challenge the passing hour, like guards that keep

Their solitary watch on tower and steep;
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.

To-morrow! the mysterious, unknown guest,
Who cries to me: "Remember Barmecide,
And tremble to be happy with the rest."

And I make answer: "I am satisfied;
I dare not ask; I know not what is best;
God hath already said what shall betide."