Poem by George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans)

Published november 4, 2014 11:38

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
That helped some soul and nothing cost - -
Then count that day as worse than lost.