Like birds, like flowers, oh! let us live To-day,
And leave To-morrow to the Fates' old fingers,
And waste no weeping over Yesterday!
Lo! round about the golden lustre lingers,
From ‘May-Day' by Sir Edmund William Gosse
We didn't live for today
Over tomorrow's worries our minds wandered
We wept for years over yesterday
So all Gosse's advice was squandered
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