Tomorrow
translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Lord, what am I, that with unceasing care
Thou did’st seek after me, that Thou did’st wait
Wet with unhealthy dews before my gate,
And pass the gloomy nights of winter there?
Oh, strange delusion, that I did not greet
Thy blest approach, and oh, to heaven how lost
If my ingratitude’s unkindly frost
Has chilled the bleeding wounds upon Thy feet.
How oft my guardian angel gently cried,
“Soul, from thy casement look, and thou shalt see
How He persists to knock and wait for thee!”
And oh, how often to that Voice of sorrow,
“Tomorrow we will open,” I replied,
And when the morrow came I answered still “Tomorrow.”
From Hispanic Anthology: Poems Translated from the Spanish by English and North American Poets (G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1920). This poem is in the public domain.
Lope de Vega
Félix Lope de Vega y Carpio, nicknamed “Fénix de los Ingenios” (“Phoenix of the Ingenuities”), due to his astonishing literary output, was a Spanish poet, playwright, and novelist, and one of the key figures in the Spanish Golden Age of Baroque literature, alongside Mateo Aléman, Vicente Espinel, Luis de Góngora, Francisco de Quevado, and Miguel de Cervantes, with whom Lope had his most significant literary feud.