Count that day lost
If you sit down at set of sun,
And count the acts that you have done,
And counting, find
One self-denying deed, one word,
That eased the heart of him who heard,
One glance most kind,
That fell like sunshine where it went --
Then you may count that day well spent,
But if through all the livelong day,
You’ve cheered no heart, by yea or nay --
If, through it all
You’ve nothing done that you can trace,
That brought the sunshine to one face --
No act most small.
Then count that day as worse than lost.