He was going to be all that mortal could be – tomorrow.

No one would be braver and kinder than he – tomorrow.

A friend who was weary and troubled he knew,

Who would be glad of a lift, and needed it, too.

On him he would call and see what he could do – tomorrow.

Each morning he’d stack up the letters he’d write – tomorrow,

And thought of the folks he’d fill with delight – tomorrow.

It was too bad indeed he was busy today,

And hadn’t a minute to stop on the way.

More time he’d have to give others, he’d say - tomorrow.

The greatest of wonders and workers this man would have been – tomorrow.

The world would have known him, if ever he’d seen tomorrow.

But the fact is he died, and he faded from view,

And all that was left, when living was through,

Was a mountain of things he intended to do – tomorrow.