Tomorrow

The robin chants when the thrush is dumb,

⁠Snow smooths a bed for the clover,

Life flames anew, and days to come

⁠Are sweet as the days that are over.

The tide that ebbs by the moon flows back,

⁠Faith builds on the ruins of sorrow,

The halcyon flutters in winter's track,

⁠And night makes way for the morrow.

And ever a strain, of joys the sum,

⁠Sings on in the heart of the lover—

In death sings on—that days to come

⁠Are sweet as the days that are over!