“Tomorrow,” he promised his conscience,
“Tomorrow, I mean to believe;
Tomorrow I’ll think as I ought to;
Tomorrow the Savior receive;
Tomorrow I’ll sever the shackles
That hold me from heaven away”;
But ever his conscience repeated
One word and that only, “Today!”
Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow―
Thus day after day it went on;
Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow―
Till youth like a vision was gone;
Till age and his passions had written
The message of fate on his brow;
And forth from the shadows came Death,
With the pitiless syllable: “Now!”