 | The poetical works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |  |
TO-MORROW.
'T is late at night, and in the realm of sleepMy 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,
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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.”
| The poetical works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | |