Listen to the Exhortation of the Dawn!
Look to this Day! For it is Life,
The very Life of Life.
In its brief course lie all the Varieties
And Realities of your Existence;
The Bliss of Growth,
The Glory of Action,
The Splendor of Beauty;
For Yesterday is but a Dream,
And Tomorrow is only a Vision;
But Today well lived
Makes every Yesterday a Dream of Happiness,
And every Tomorrow a Vision of Hope.
Look well therefore to this Day!
Such is the Salutation of Dawn.
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I will prepare and some day my chance will come.
I will prepare and some day my chance will come.
Someday is not a day of the week.
Someday is not a day of the week.
From fibers of pain and hope and trouble
And toil and happiness,--one by one,--
Twisted together, or read more
From fibers of pain and hope and trouble
And toil and happiness,--one by one,--
Twisted together, or single or double,
The varying thread of our life is spun.
Hope shall cheer though the chain be galling;
Light shall come though the gloom be falling;
Faith will list for the Master calling
Our hearts to his rest,--when the day is done.
I said, Days should speak, and multitude of years should teach
wisdom.
I said, Days should speak, and multitude of years should teach
wisdom.
Every day may not be good... but there's something good in every day.
Every day may not be good... but there's something good in every day.
Daughter of Time, the hypocrite Days,
Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes,
And marching single in an read more
Daughter of Time, the hypocrite Days,
Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes,
And marching single in an endless file,
Bring diadems and fagots in their hands;
To each they offer gifts after his will,
Bread, kingdom, stars, and sky that holds them all;
I, in my pleached garden watched the pomp
Forgot my morning wishes, hastily
Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day
Turned and departed silent. I too late
Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.
Yet, behind the night,
Waits for the great unborn, somewhere afar,
Some white tremendous daybreak.
Yet, behind the night,
Waits for the great unborn, somewhere afar,
Some white tremendous daybreak.
Day!
Faster and more fast,
O'er night's brim, day boils at last;
Boils, pure read more
Day!
Faster and more fast,
O'er night's brim, day boils at last;
Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brim.
Don't look forward to the day you stop suffering, because when it comes you'll know you're dead.
Don't look forward to the day you stop suffering, because when it comes you'll know you're dead.
