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 of wrath that day of burning,
Seer and Sibyl speak concerning,
All the world to ashes read more

Day of wrath that day of burning,
Seer and Sibyl speak concerning,
All the world to ashes turning.
[Lat., Dies irae, dies illa!
Solvet saeclum in favilla,
Teste David cum Sybilla.]

The long days are no happier than the short ones.

The long days are no happier than the short ones.

After the day there cometh the derke night;
For though the day be never so longe,
At read more

After the day there cometh the derke night;
For though the day be never so longe,
At last the belles ringeth to evensonge.

Think that day lost whose (low) descending sun
Views from thy hand no noble action done.
[Lat., read more

Think that day lost whose (low) descending sun
Views from thy hand no noble action done.
[Lat., Virtus sui gloria.]

Listen to the Exhortation of the Dawn!
Look to this Day! For it is Life,
The very read more

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.

When I stand before thee at the day's end, thou shalt see my scars and know that I had my read more

When I stand before thee at the day's end, thou shalt see my scars and know that I had my wounds and also my healing.

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.

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.