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.