To-Morrow
He was going to be all that a mortal should be
To-morrow.
No one should be kinder or braver than he
To-morrow.
A friend who was troubled and weary he knew,
Who’d be glad of a lift and who needed it, too;
On him he would call and see what he could do
To-morrow.
Each morning he stacked up the letters he’d
write
To-morrow.
And thought of the folks he would fill with
delight
To-morrow.
It was too bad, indeed, he was busy to-day,
And hadn’t a minute to stop on his way;
More time he would have to give others, he’d
say,
To-morrow.
The greatest of workers this man would have
been
To-morrow.
The world would have known him, had he ever
seen
To-morrow.
But the fact is he died and he faded from view,
And all that he left here when living was
through
Was a mountain of things he intended to do
To-morrow.