To-Morrow

To-morrow and to-morrow--shall there be
Perchance a morrow when I may not see
Your face beside me any more? Ah, no!
My love, my love, I cannot let you go.
Like sun in Egypt, ever kind and fair,
My heart must wake at dawn and know you there--
No dread of day which holds a weeping rain,
No dread of chilly love and bitter pain,
But ever present, ever wise and true,
To-morrow and to-morrow holding you.