And the echoes of tomorrow ring today,
While men reckons for them some other day,
Not to wit, today is tomorrow's seed,
And tomorrow echoes by today's deed.
And the music of tomorrow is set to play,
By the passage of the tide, more at Bay,
That the echoes are no more far, but near,
Heard by all ears, to know what sounds in the rear.
By the echoes coming from afar,
One knows what sounds they are,
And choose to dance to them, he can,
But the wake of dance to be known by every man.
In this little music to which we dance,
To set the rhythm and tune is in our hands,
For pleasant echoes of tomorrow,
Not at all, to bring us sorrow.
