To-Day

This is To-day, a child in white and blue 
Running to meet me out of Night who stilled 
The ghost of Yester-eve; this is fair Morn 
The mother of To-morrow. And these clouds 
That chase the sunshine over gleaming hills
Are thoughts, delighting in the golden change 
And the ceremony of their drifting state. 
 
This is To-day. To-morrow might bring death,— 
And Life, the gleeful madrigal of birds, 
Be drowned in glimmer of sleep. To-day I know
How sweet it is to spend these eyes, and boast 
This bubble of vistaed memory and sense 
Blown by my joy aloft the glittering airs 
Of heavenly peace. Oh take me to yourselves, 
Earth, sky, and spirit! Let me stand within
The circle of your transience, that my voice 
May thrill the lonely silences with song.