Tell me not of morrows, sweet
Nay, but speak of morrows, sweet;
Lest to-day seem loss of ours,
Thine and mine,
Leaving nought to come again.
Nay, but speak of yesterdays,
Lest, forgetting trodden ways,
We have trodden them in vain.
Make one love-time of all hours,
Mine and thine,
Else to-day were incomplete.