TO-MORROW by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
A restless Longfellow lies awake at night while his children sleep, listening to the ticking clocks and crowing roosters, sensing tomorrow creeping in like an unexpected visitor.
The poem
'T is late at night, and in the realm of sleep My little lambs are folded like the flocks; From room to room I hear the wakeful clocks Challenge the passing hour, like guards that keep Their solitary watch on tower and steep; Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks, And through the opening door that time unlocks Feel the fresh breathing of To-morrow creep. To-morrow! the mysterious, unknown guest, Who cries to me: "Remember Barmecide, And tremble to be happy with the rest." And I make answer: "I am satisfied; I dare not ask; I know not what is best; God hath already said what shall betide."
A restless Longfellow lies awake at night while his children sleep, listening to the ticking clocks and crowing roosters, sensing tomorrow creeping in like an unexpected visitor. Tomorrow warns him not to get too cozy with happiness. He responds with a calm acceptance: he trusts God to determine what lies ahead, and that reassures him.
Line-by-line
'T is late at night, and in the realm of sleep / My little lambs are folded like the flocks;
From room to room I hear the wakeful clocks / Challenge the passing hour, like guards that keep
Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks, / And through the opening door that time unlocks
Feel the fresh breathing of To-morrow creep. / To-morrow! the mysterious, unknown guest,
Who cries to me: "Remember Barmecide, / And tremble to be happy with the rest."
And I make answer: "I am satisfied; / I dare not ask; I know not what is best;
God hath already said what shall betide."
Tone & mood
The tone is quiet and reflective — the stillness that can only be felt at 2 a.m. when the world is asleep. There’s a sense of unease woven into the first eight lines, a lingering anxiety about what tomorrow might hold. However, the sestet shifts toward calm acceptance, even a sense of serenity. By the final line, the mood has transformed into something resembling peace — not victorious, just steady.
Symbols & metaphors
- Little lambs — Longfellow's sleeping children. The image feels warm and protective, evoking pastoral traditions along with the biblical shepherd watching over his flock. It subtly portrays Longfellow as the solitary guardian awake, watching over the innocent as they sleep.
- The wakeful clocks — Time itself sounds almost menacing. The clocks don’t just tick—they *defy* the passing hour like soldiers. They embody the unyielding advance of time that prevents the speaker from finding peace.
- To-morrow as a guest — The future is depicted as a mysterious stranger who shows up unexpectedly and shares cautionary tales. This image reflects the unease of uncertainty about what tomorrow might bring, while also providing the speaker a chance to respond — transforming personal anxiety into a form of conversation.
- The Barmecide feast — An allusion to *One Thousand and One Nights*, where a wealthy man pretends to offer a beggar food that isn't real. Here, it symbolizes a false or illusory happiness—something that appears genuine but lacks substance. Tomorrow cautions Longfellow against being misled by this illusion.
- The opening door — The boundary between night and day, between what we know now and what lies ahead. Time is the key that opens it, and tomorrow flows through that space — hinting that the future is constantly approaching, often catching us off guard.
- The crowing of the cocks — A classic sign of dawn, indicating that night is fading and a new, unpredictable day is approaching. It contributes to the poem's feeling of time progressing, regardless of the speaker's readiness.
Historical context
Longfellow penned this sonnet in the mid-nineteenth century, a time when he was among the most popular poets in the English-speaking world. His life was marked by deep sorrow — his first wife passed away in 1835, and his second wife, Fanny, tragically died in a fire in 1861, an event that left him heartbroken for the rest of his days. The poem's late-night backdrop, the image of sleeping children, and its themes of surrender to God's will carry even more significance when considering the grief that Longfellow endured. The allusion to the Barmecide shows his strong connection to world literature, including his own translations and his fascination with *One Thousand and One Nights*. The sonnet structure — fourteen lines arranged in a Petrarchan format with an octave and sestet — effectively captures the poem's progression from anxious observation to a sense of acceptance.
FAQ
The Barmecide originates from *One Thousand and One Nights*. In this tale, a wealthy man named Barmecide invites a starving beggar to a lavish feast but only serves him empty plates and fake food, which the beggar pretends to enjoy. In the poem, Tomorrow references this story as a warning: don’t fall for the illusion of happiness when it’s not genuine. It serves as a reminder to be wary of self-deception.
It's a Petrarchan (Italian) sonnet — fourteen lines written in iambic pentameter, split into an octave (eight lines) and a sestet (six lines). The octave establishes the context and presents the issue, while the sestet shifts towards a resolution. Longfellow employs this structure intentionally: the tension escalates in the octave, and the sestet reveals the speaker's composed response.
His children are asleep in their rooms. The term "lambs" conveys a sense of affection and protection, while also recalling biblical imagery of a shepherd looking after his flock. This sets up Longfellow as the solitary, watchful guardian in a household full of sleeping family members.
The poem doesn’t state a clear reason, but the imagery reveals it: he’s lying awake, listening to clocks, hearing roosters, and sensing tomorrow approaching. He’s worried about the future — about what the next day might hold. At its core, the poem captures that all-too-familiar type of insomnia fueled by anxiety about what’s ahead.
"God hath already said what shall betide" suggests that whatever happens tomorrow has already been set by God. Longfellow conveys that he doesn't need to foresee or control the future — God has made those choices, and that's sufficient. This reflects a statement of faith that serves as the poem's emotional resolution, transforming anxiety into acceptance.
Sure thing! Here’s a more humanized version of the text:
Yes, almost certainly. The domestic scene — with sleeping children, a quiet house, and clocks chiming — feels like a genuine night that Longfellow experienced. He faced considerable personal losses throughout his life, and the poem's blend of tenderness towards his children and worry about the future aligns with what we understand about his emotional struggles. Still, the emotions he expresses are universal enough that readers can relate to them without knowing his backstory.
Personifying Tomorrow allows him to engage in a conversation with it — which is precisely what the poem accomplishes. Rather than merely portraying anxiety as an internal emotion, he brings it to life as a mysterious guest who speaks and can be replied to. This grants the speaker a sense of agency: he doesn't merely endure the worry; he engages with it. The dialogue format also propels the poem's shift from discomfort to acceptance.
The octave has an ABBAABBA rhyme scheme (sleep/flocks/clocks/keep/steep/locks/unlocks/creep), which is typical of the Petrarchan octave. The sestet follows a CDCDCD pattern (rest/Barmecide/rest/satisfied/best/betide). The interlocking rhymes in the octave evoke a feeling of confinement — as if the speaker is caught in the night — while the sestet begins to open up a bit as he discovers his answer.