Songs, comic and satyrical By George Alexander Stevens. A new edition, Corrected |
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TO-DAY AND TO-NIGHT. |
 | Songs, comic and satyrical |  |
TO-DAY AND TO-NIGHT.
Ruby-finger'd
Aurora, fair Lady of Light,
From saffron robes shaking the last shade of night,
Call'd Phœbus, who bless'd with his sea beauty's boon,
Slow awoke, Thetis vow'd, 'twas immensely too soon.
From saffron robes shaking the last shade of night,
Call'd Phœbus, who bless'd with his sea beauty's boon,
Slow awoke, Thetis vow'd, 'twas immensely too soon.
Above the horizon his beams, circling, spead
The grey dappled clouds, fring'd transparent with red:
The breezy air rich with the perfumes of May,
While birds on the boughs chirp'd and sung in the day.
The grey dappled clouds, fring'd transparent with red:
The breezy air rich with the perfumes of May,
While birds on the boughs chirp'd and sung in the day.
Shall man, most oblig'd, offer less to that pow'r
By whom he's endow'd, to enjoy ev'ry hour?
Yes,—pride-born Ingratitude never will pay
The thanks which are due for the gift of To-day.
By whom he's endow'd, to enjoy ev'ry hour?
Yes,—pride-born Ingratitude never will pay
The thanks which are due for the gift of To-day.
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No,—To-morrow's the thing; To-morrow! Sloth cries—
To-morrow's the shadow which ev'ry day flies;
Death Yesterday call'd in his fools—and, To-day,
'Tis not six to four but we're had the same way.
To-morrow's the shadow which ev'ry day flies;
Death Yesterday call'd in his fools—and, To-day,
'Tis not six to four but we're had the same way.
We must laugh when we look on Time-killers distress,
Who dress, dine, and daudle—dine, daudle, and dress:
In one senseless saunter dream Day and Night thro'
In nothing to say, and—in nothing to do.
Who dress, dine, and daudle—dine, daudle, and dress:
In one senseless saunter dream Day and Night thro'
In nothing to say, and—in nothing to do.
As for thinking To-day, 'tis absurd to begin:
A head fine frizzur'd wants no finish within:
To-morrow's the wild-goose at which they take aim,
A mouthful of moonshine they get for their game.
A head fine frizzur'd wants no finish within:
To-morrow's the wild-goose at which they take aim,
A mouthful of moonshine they get for their game.
Let us, lads depend on Life's plain-dealing plan,
Not kill Time, but keep all alive while we can:
Day and Night too, our welcome to Beauty we'll pay,
Love equal expects both good Night and good Day.
Not kill Time, but keep all alive while we can:
Day and Night too, our welcome to Beauty we'll pay,
Love equal expects both good Night and good Day.
To Night be my song then—I honour its shades;
Fall fertile, ye vapours, make Mothers of Maids:
To the end of each Day be our doings upright,
May all do the best thing they can do To-night.
Fall fertile, ye vapours, make Mothers of Maids:
To the end of each Day be our doings upright,
May all do the best thing they can do To-night.
| Songs, comic and satyrical | |