Poems (Schiller)/To-morrow

by Rebecca Jane Schiller

For works with similar titles, see To-morrow.

TO-MORROW Respectfully dedicated to Miss T. M. Conser. "Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth."—Proverbs 27:1.

Boast not of to-morrow, O light heart of mine!Thou know'st not what sorrow Ere then may be thine.

Untimely frost blackens Fair buds in a night,And a woe all undreamed of As swiftly may blight.

Thy present is joyous, Thy future gleams fair,Hope gilds every vision— Nor hinteth of care.

But think of that evening, When calm skies looked downOn fair Egypt's children, And wore not a frown;

And yet when the morning Dawned over the land,Grim death claimed the eldest Of each household band.

Or picture that palace Of Chaldea's kingWhere the hours were joyous With gay banqueting.

Where beauty smiled proudly, And wine sparkled bright;While music enchanting Swelled out on the night.

And mark you, how sudden Upon the fair wall,Was written the message Which terrified all.

And ere the morn's brilliance Made Luna's light wane,The royal Belshazzar Was marked with the slain.

Then claim not the future, O proud heart of mine,For only the present Thou mayest call thine.

To-morrow may find thee All pulseless and cold,Or the prey of an anguish Too deep to be told.June, 1870.