In Her Diary

Go, little book, and be the looking-glass Of her dear soul, The mirror of her moments as they pass, Keeping the whole; Wherein she still may look on yesterday To-day to cheer, And towards To-morrow pass upon her way Without a fear. For yesterday hath never won a crown, However fair, But that To-day a better for its own Might win and wear; And yesterday hath never joyed a joy, However sweet, That this To-day or that To-morrow too May not repeat. Think too, To-day is trustee for to-morrow, And present pain That's bravely borne shall ease the future sorrow Nor cry in vain 'Spare us To-day, To-morrow bring the rod,' For then again To-morrow from To-morrow still shall borrow, A little ease to gain: But bear to-day whate'er To-day may bring, 'Tis the one way to make To-morrow sing.