You May Count that Day
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.