Some say "to-morrow" never comes,
A saying oft thought right;
But if to-morrow never came,
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Some say "to-morrow" never comes,
A saying oft thought right;
But if to-morrow never came,
No end were of "to-night."
The fact is this, time flies so fast,
That e'er we've time to say
"To-morrow's come," presto! behold!
"To-morrow" proves "To-day."

Oh! to be wafted away
From this black Aceldama of sorrow,
Where the dust of an earthy read more

Oh! to be wafted away
From this black Aceldama of sorrow,
Where the dust of an earthy to-day
Makes the earth of a dusty to-morrow.

The crisis of today is the joke of tomorrow.

The crisis of today is the joke of tomorrow.

Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He, who can call to-day his own:
He who, secure read more

Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He, who can call to-day his own:
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have liv'd today.

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

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."

How oft my guardian angel gently cried,
"Soul, from thy casement look, and thou shalt see
How read more

How oft my guardian angel gently cried,
"Soul, from thy casement look, and thou shalt see
How he persists to knock and wait for thee!"
And, O! how often to that voice of sorrow,
"To-morrow we will open," I replied,
And when the morrow came I answered still, "To-morrow."

After all, tomorrow is another day.

After all, tomorrow is another day.

Trust on and think To-morrow will repay;
To-morrow's falser than the former day;
Lies worse; and while read more

Trust on and think To-morrow will repay;
To-morrow's falser than the former day;
Lies worse; and while it says, we shall be blest
With some new Joys, cuts off what we possest.

In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining,
May my lot no less fortunate be
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In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining,
May my lot no less fortunate be
Than a snug elbow-chair can afford for reclining,
And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea;
With an ambling pad-pony to pace o'er the lawn,
While I carol away idle sorrow,
And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn,
Look forward with hope for to-morrow.