To-Morrow Poem by George MacDonald
To-Morrow
My TO-MORROW is but a flitting
Fancy of the brain;
God's TO-MORROW an angel sitting,
Ready for joy or pain.
My TO-MORROW has no soul,
Dead as yesterdays;
God's-a brimming silver bowl
Of life that gleams and plays.
My TO-MORROW, I mock you away!
Shadowless nothing, thou!
God's TO-MORROW, come, dear day,
For God is in thee now.
Friday, April 9, 2010
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Poems By George MacDonald
Best Poems
Best Member Poems
Best Classical Poems
New Poems
New Poets
Best Member Poets
Best Classical Poets
Explore Poems
Explore Poets
Poem Of The Day
Love Poems
Baby Poems
Death Poems
Sad Poems
Birthday Poems
Wedding Poems
Nature Poems
Sorry Poems
Hero Poems
Poetry E-Books
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/25/2024 3:09:53 PM # 1.0.0.1119
