Siegfried Sassoon, "To-Day"

To-day

This is To-day, a child in white and blue

Running to meet me out of Night who stilled

The ghost of Yester-eve; this is fair Morn

The mother of To-morrow. And these clouds

That chase the sunshine over gleaming hills

Are thoughts, delighting in the golden change

And the ceremony of their drifting state.

This is To-day. To-morrow might bring death,—
And Life, the gleeful madrigal of birds,
Be drowned in glimmer of sleep. To-day I know
How sweet it is to spend these eyes, and boast
This...