Classic Poem

In Father Time's old nursery
The little Morrows wait,
Each one impatient to be out,
Impatient to be great;
On bravely through the sun to go,
On bravely through the showers,
A world to see, a Day to be!
The happy-hearted Hours!

So one by one he lets them out,
His Days so young and strong,
The morning shining in their face,
And on their lips a song.
When home they come, their work all done,
There 's quiet in their ways,
And shadows rise and haunt their eyes, —
They 're dear old Yesterdays!

And now we love them for the half
Of all that we hold dear, —
The echo-side of every word,
The far to every near;
The sunset touch to every hope
That fades along our skies,
The after-dream, the vanished gleam,
The love in long-shut eyes.