Poems (Dorr)/To-day
For works with similar titles, see To-day.
TO-DAY
What dost thou bring to me, O fair To-day,That comest o'er the mountains with swift feet?All the young birds make haste thy steps to greet, And all the dewy roses of the May Turn red and white with joy. The breezes playOn their soft harps a welcome low and sweet;All nature hails thee, glad thy face to meet, And owns thy presence in a brighter ray.But my poor soul distrusts thee! One as fair As thou art, O To-day, drew near to me,Serene and smiling, yet she bade me wearThe sudden sackcloth of a great despair!O, pitiless! that through the wandering air Sent no kind warning of the ill to be!