Do You Like Poetry? Here's One that's Worth Memorizing.

Hat tip to The Catholic Thing for publishing this beautiful poem by Lope de Vega. And a prayer of gratitude to Longfellow for translating it into English. It reminds me of Thompson's The Hound of Heaven. 

                        TOMORROW    

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.”

Lope de Vega

— translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow