Yet Nightly Pitch My Moving Tent, A

To-morrow — Oh, 'twill Never Be, If We Should Live A Thousand Years! Our Time Is All To-day, To-day, The Same, Though Changed; And While It Flies With Still Small Voice The Moments Say: "to-day, To-day, Be Wise, Be Wise.

Blue Thou Art, Intensely Blue; Flower, Whence Came Thy Dazzling Hue?

Joys Too Exquisite To Last, And Yet More Exquisite When Past.

Here Hyacinths Of Heavenly Blue, Shook Their Rich Tresses To The Morn.

Night Is The Time To Weep,to Wet With Unseen Tearsthose Graves Of Memory Where Sleepthe Joys Of Other Years.