Poems (Piatt)/Volume 2/To-morrow
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For works with similar titles, see To-morrow.
TO-MORROW.
Keep lovely in that painted scene
There where false water quivers bright,
There where false-fruited trees are green,
Far from the sharp dawn's dreary light,
Our dear illusion of To-night!
There where false water quivers bright,
There where false-fruited trees are green,
Far from the sharp dawn's dreary light,
Our dear illusion of To-night!
Only with lamps between we meet,
With silence in your steps you stay:
A player, seeming young and sweet,
That have to play a bitter play—
Near, yet forever far away.
With silence in your steps you stay:
A player, seeming young and sweet,
That have to play a bitter play—
Near, yet forever far away.
You, in your borrowed hair's soft gloom;
You, in your mask of white and red;
You, in mock jewels—bud and bloom,
Torn from To-day, with odours dead,
Will stain the shining stage you tread!
You, in your mask of white and red;
You, in mock jewels—bud and bloom,
Torn from To-day, with odours dead,
Will stain the shining stage you tread!
We tremble as we feel you start,
So dimly glittering toward our eyes,
For this dark drama, this fierce part,
Where coffins, blood, and tearful cries
Must pass you in your pageantries.
So dimly glittering toward our eyes,
For this dark drama, this fierce part,
Where coffins, blood, and tearful cries
Must pass you in your pageantries.
Ah! lovely in that painted scene,
There where false water quivers bright,
There where false-fruited trees are green,
Far from the sharp dawn's dreary light,
Stay, dear illusion of To-night!
There where false water quivers bright,
There where false-fruited trees are green,
Far from the sharp dawn's dreary light,
Stay, dear illusion of To-night!