When I was dead, my spirit turned br To seek the much-frequented house: br I passed the door, and saw my friends br Feasting beneath green orange boughs; br From hand to hand they pushed the wine, br They sucked the pulp of plum and peach; br They sang, they jested, and they laughed, br For each was loved of each. br br I listened to thier honest chat: br Said one: "To-morrow we shall be br Plod plod along the featureless sands, br And coasting miles and miles of sea." br Said one: "Before the turn of tide br We will achieve the eyrie-seat." br Said one: "To-morrow shall be like br To-day, but much more sweet." br br "To-morrow," said they, strong with hope, br And dwelt upon the pleasant way: br "To-morrow," cried they, one and all, br While no one spoke of yesterday. br Their life stood full at blessed noon; br I, only I, had passed away: br "To-morrow and to-day," they cried; br I was of yesterday. br br I shivered comfortless, but cast br No chill across the table-cloth; br I, all-forgotten, shivered, sad br To stay, and yet to part how loth: br I passed from the familiar room, br I who from love had passed away, br Like the remembrance of a guest br That tarrieth but a day.