Holds much joy for thee, I ween.
Why, then, seek to know what’s coming?
It is forming day by day
But your heart, in blind out-reaching,
Makes to-morrow of to-day.
“Life is real—life is earnest;”
And the heroine in the strife
Is the one who leaves the future—
Living but the present life;—
Lives it truly, nobly, grandly;