To-morrow, didst thou say?
Methought I heard Horatio say, To-morrow!
Go to--I will not hear it. To-morrow!
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To-morrow, didst thou say?
Methought I heard Horatio say, To-morrow!
Go to--I will not hear it. To-morrow!
'Tis a sharper--who stakes his penury
Against thy plenty--takes thy ready cash,
And pays thee naught but wishes, hopes, and promises,
The currency of idiots--injurious bankrupt,
That gulls the easy creditor!

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.

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

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."

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."

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

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.

Never do but one thing at a time, and never put off till
to-morrow what you can do today.

Never do but one thing at a time, and never put off till
to-morrow what you can do today.

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.