Classic Poem

My head aches! Tired of thinking,
One forward glimpse I'd borrow.
Dark chains of thought I'm linking, —
Will they be bright to-morrow?

My heart aches! I am weary
Of my unrest and sorrow.
To-day is dark and dreary, —
Will it be bright to-morrow?

That golden time! who's found it,
That ever-sought to-morrow?
Cluster all hopes around it,
Without one touch of sorrow.

Vain fancy! Sing thy sonnet,
And days from dreamland borrow:
But sun ne'er shone upon it, —
There never was to-morrow!