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.

In just two days, tomorrow will be yesterday

In just two days, tomorrow will be yesterday

For then shalt thou lift up thy face without spot; yea, thou
shalt be stedfast, and shalt not fear:
read more

For then shalt thou lift up thy face without spot; yea, thou
shalt be stedfast, and shalt not fear:
Because thou shalt forget thy misery, and remember it as waters
that pass away:
And thine age shall be clearer than the noonday; thou shalt shine
forth, thou shalt be as the morning.

The long days are no happier than the short ones.

The long days are no happier than the short ones.

Someday is not a day of the week.

Someday is not a day of the week.

You can become blind by seeing each day as a similar one. Each day is a different one, each day read more

You can become blind by seeing each day as a similar one. Each day is a different one, each day brings a miracle of its own. It's just a matter of paying attention to this miracle.

Days that need borrow
No part of their good morrow,
From a fore-spent night of sorrow.

Days that need borrow
No part of their good morrow,
From a fore-spent night of sorrow.

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.

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.