Defer not till to-morrow to be wise,
To-morrow's Sun to thee may never rise;
Or should to-morrow read more

Defer not till to-morrow to be wise,
To-morrow's Sun to thee may never rise;
Or should to-morrow chance to cheer thy sight
With her enlivening and unlook'd for light,
How grateful will appear her dawning rays!
As favours unexpected doubly please.

Leuconoe, close the book of fate,
For troubles are in store,
. . . .
read more

Leuconoe, close the book of fate,
For troubles are in store,
. . . .
Live today, tomorrow is not.

Dreaming of a to-morrow, which to-morrow
Will be as distant then as 'tis to-day.
- Lope read more

Dreaming of a to-morrow, which to-morrow
Will be as distant then as 'tis to-day.
- Lope Felix de Vega Carpio ("Tome Burguillos"),

Remember, today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.

Remember, today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.

Some say "to-morrow" never comes,
A saying oft thought right;
But if to-morrow never came,
read more

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."

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks,
And through the opening door that time unlocks
read more

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,
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."

To-morrow you will live, you always cry;
In what fair country does this morrow lie,
That 'tis read more

To-morrow you will live, you always cry;
In what fair country does this morrow lie,
That 'tis so mighty long ere it arrive?
Beyond the Indies does this morrow live?
'Tis so far-fetched, this morrow, that I fear
'Twill be both very old and very dear.
"To-morrow I will live," the fool does say:
To-day itself's too late;--the wise lived yesterday.