"As Tommy Snooks and Bessy Brooks

Were walking out one Sunday,

Says Tommy Snooks to Bessy Brooks,

To-morrow will be Monday."

No doubt you are smiling at such a remark.

And thinking poor Snooks but a pitiful

spark;

But the words have a meaning, worth look-

ing for, too,

As I'll presently try and demonstrate for you.

'Twas a pity, indeed, in that moment of

leisure,

To dampen poor Bessy's hebdomadal pleas-

ure,

Suggesting that close on the beautiful Sun-

day

Must come all the common-place horrors

of Monday;

That he to his toiling, and she to her

tub,

Must turn, and take up with another week's

rub;

Yet a truth for us all, since the shade of

the real

Follows fast on the track of each sunny

ideal.

Now and then we may pause on Life's

pleasant oases;

But between lie the desert's grim, desolate

spaces;

And our feet, with all patience, must trav-

erse them still,

Reaching forward to blessing, through

bearing of ill.

Yet for Snooks and his Bessy,—for me

and for you,—

Comes a Saturday night when the wage

will be due;

And we'll say to each other, in ecstasy,

one day,

"To-morrow—the endless to-morrow—is

Sunday!"