TILL TO-MORROW.
Be kind, dear love, and never say "Good-by!"
But always, when we 're parting,—"Till to morrow."
So shall my lips forget to frame a sigh,
And Hope smile fondly in the face of Sorrow.
But always, when we 're parting,—"Till to morrow."
So shall my lips forget to frame a sigh,
And Hope smile fondly in the face of Sorrow.
For if, indeed, it be but little space
Before our parted steps again are meeting,
'T will cheat the hours to haste their lagging pace,
If memory linger still on thought of greeting.
Before our parted steps again are meeting,
'T will cheat the hours to haste their lagging pace,
If memory linger still on thought of greeting.
Or should our feet diverge through weary days
And dreary nights, the changing seasons bringing,
The flinty sharpness of our lonely ways
Will somewhat smooth, while thus the heart is singing.
And dreary nights, the changing seasons bringing,
The flinty sharpness of our lonely ways
Will somewhat smooth, while thus the heart is singing.
