“Tomorrow,” he promised his conscience;
“Tomorrow I mean to believe;
Tomorrow I’ll think as I ought to;
Tomorrow the Saviour receive;
Tomorrow I’ll conquer the habits
That hold me in sin’s bitter sway.”
But ever his conscience repeated one word:
“Today, today, today!”
“Tomorrow - tomorrow - tomorrow”
So day after day it went on.
“Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow”
Till youth like a vision was gone,
Till age and his passions had written
The sentence of fate on his brow;
And forth from the shadows came Death,
With the pitiless syllable: “NOW!”