Poetry Archives

Come listen, O Love, to the voice of the dove,
Come, hearken and hear him say,
There are many To-morrows, my Love, my Love,—
There is only one To-day.

And all day long you can hear him say
This day in purple is rolled,
And the baby stars of the milky-way—
They are cradled in cradles of gold.

Now what is thy secret, serene gray dove,
Of singing so sweetly alway?
“There are many To-morrows, my Love, my Love,—
There is only one To-day.”