                              COUNT THAT DAY LOST
                                by George Eliot


                      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 sunshine to one face - 
                        No act most small
                      That helped some soul and nothing cost -
                      Then count that day as worse than lost.


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