Classic Poem

There's a feeling that comes with the daze of joy
And goes with the knights of grief—
That stands on the top of a baby buoy,
And floats with an anchor chief.
It rides on the back of a noted Bill,
And fights where your collars fray;
It whispers in accents loud and shrill—
To-morrow succeeds to-day.

We con the lessons of life betimes
In the leaves of an open glade;
The frost on the window writes its rimes,
We live and we learn be trayed.
The coals we heat and the apes we were
Are gone where the Russians sleigh.
The moral is blown on the well-known air—
To-morrow succeeds to-day.

In the bustle and jam of the daily strife,
What matters if men preserve
The bosom of hope from the butcher's knife,
And its train from the pointsman curve?
Remember the fate of the ready maid
Who went where the preachers prey;
Take matter for thought from a new decayed—
To-morrow succeeds to-day.