Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By JohnBennett

1561 Her Answer

TO-DAY, dear heart, but just to-day,

The sunshine over all,

The roses crimsoning the air

Along the garden wall!

Then let the dream and dreamer die;

Whate’er shall be, shall be—

To-day will still be thine and mine

To all eternity.

And oh, there is no glory, dear,

When all the world is done,

There is no splendor lasteth out

The sinking of the sun;

There is no thing that lasts, not one,

When we have turned to clay,

But this: you loved me—all the rest

Fades with the world away.

So little while, so little while

This world doth last for us,

There is no way to keep it, dear,

But just to spend it thus.

There is no hand may stop the sand

From flowing fast away

But his who turns the whole glass down

And dreams ’t is all to-day.