Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow—
That endless siege of bitter, barren days
That fate extends to mete out all her sorrow
Through time-worn, empty tragedies replayed.
What consolation lies within such strife
That mocks the humble hopes of haggard men?
When sombrous sorrow permeates glad life
What darker sadness does such woe portend?
What future stirs within that ruined wake—
Relentless quotidian misery—
And from prosaic life what can fate take
To further debase  a lowly destiny?
Oh nothing—save your fond and timeless grace
And gentle smile, which can all woe disgrace.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.