Classic Poem

Today the sunshine freely showers
Its benediction where we stand;
There's not a passing cloud that lowers
Above this pleasant summer-land:
Then let's not waste the sweet today—
Tomorrow, who can say?

Perhaps tomorrow we may be
(Alas! alas! the thought is pain!)
As far apart as sky and sea,
Sundered, to meet no more again:
Then let us clasp thee, sweet today—
Tomorrow, who can say?

The daylight fades; a purple dream
Of twilight hovers overhead,
While all the trembling stars do seem
Like sad tears yet unshed:
Oh, sweet today, so soon away!
Tomorrow, who can say?