To-morrow, whispereth weakness: and To-morrow findeth him the weaker;
To-morrow, promiseth conscience; and behold, no To-day for a fulfilment.
O name of happy omen unto youth, O bitter word of terror to the dotard,
Goal of folly's lazy wish, and sorrow's ever-coming friend;
Fraud's loophole,—caution's hint,—and trap to catch the honest,—
Thou wealth to many poor, disgrace to many noble,
Thou hope and fear, thou weal and woe, thou remedy, thou ruin,
How thickly swarms of thought are clustering round To-morrow!
The hive of memory increaseth, to every day its cell;
There is the labour stored, the honey or corruption;