Poem: “Count That Day Lost” by George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans)

If you sit down at the 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, though 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.