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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 the sunshine to one face--

No act most small

That helped some soul and nothing cost --

Then count that day as worse than lost.