His Greatest Seal: Poems by the Rev. Francis Quintin-Arthur

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The Fleeting Days

Good Old Days


When you were Tomorrow and Today
All attention was on you
But now you are Yesterday and gone
And dead in the minds of many

I will forget you not, Yesterday
Not today and not tomorrow (if it comes)
You remind each one of us
Of what we could have done

There couldn’t have been Today without you
So today we thank you, Yesterday
And, in anticipation, thanking you for Tomorrow
For how can one forget you?

Oh, how eloquently you manifested yourself:
Your smiles in the rising of the sun
Your blessings in the thundershowers of rain
Your anger in the lightning of the heavens
     throwing your bolts
     amid the thundering clamor of the skies
Your beauty in the radiance of the stars above
Your friendship in the appearance of the rainbows
     that streak the clouds
     that slowly move in the heavens

We think about you, Yesterday
We are grateful to you today
We will think about you tomorrow

For you have left behind for us
Many joyful memories
Of Yesterdays gone by


Should I desire you or not
You are already here
And you’re here with might and plans
Whatever be your mission, Today
May I hold on till tomorrow
Aid me to hang on in such a way
That I may meet Tomorrow prepared
And look back on you tomorrow
With smiles and joy and gratitude

Yesterday I called you Tomorrow
Today I call you Today
Tomorrow I’ll call you Yesterday

Irrespective of your aliases
I will always remember you, Today
For without you Tomorrow will not be

So eagerly I look on
Since in tomorrow lie my hopes and joys and my peace


You contain our hopes
No one has seen you yet
And I doubt if anyone ever will
Because you will always be the day
That is a day away
There must be something in your name
That makes you so invisible
To the eyes of mortal man

Why do we always see Today
But never see you, Tomorrow?

Invisible as you have always been
We still do believe in you, Tomorrow
So stay right where you are
For though I hope to love you much
You always remain just out of reach

Good Old Days

I must have heard mother talk
About ninety-six thousand times
About her good old days
Children were all respect
As they met old ones pass by
How they’d salute teachers
And say, “Yes, Ma’am,” and, “Yes, Sir,” and, “Please”
She says every day to us
How things then were better
Than the trash you have these days
So she always sings the praises
Of her good old days.

As years roll past
I too recall my good old days
That mother cared not for
But I laugh and smile to think
How many joys they brought
To my little friends and me
So then my friends and I also brag
About our good old days
That mother cared not for

The young ones of this age
Swear they have all the fun
And appear indeed to enjoy
What we might call a crazy sort of life

But grant a few more years—
Then they will recall with joy
Their good old days gone by
And also tell their kids
There were no times like theirs
Those were their good old days

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