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.
George Eliot
