Welcome to Poetry.com!
Poetry.com is a collaborative platform for poets worldwide, offering a vast collection of works by both renowned and emerging poets. It's a community-driven project that serves as a hub for poets to share their works, receive feedback, and connect with like-minded fellow poets.
Explore our poetry collection by navigating through subjects, using alphabetical order, or search by keywords. You can contribute a new poem, share your thoughts and rating on existing works, listen to poems with voice pronunciation, and even translate pieces into a variety of languages, both common and uncommon.
George Eliot 1819 (Nuneaton, Warwickshire) – 1880 (Chelsea, London)
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.
About this poem
"Count That Day Lost" is a poem written by George Eliot (pseudonym of Mary Ann Evans). The poem is a reflection on the nature of success and failure, and encourages the reader to adopt a positive attitude towards life. It consists of two stanzas, each with four lines. The poem begins with the line "If you sit down at set of sun, and count the acts that you have done," suggesting that the reader should take stock of their accomplishments at the end of each day. The poem goes on to argue that even if the day has been filled with failure and disappointment, it is not truly lost if one has learned something from the experience. The poem is a powerful reminder to always strive to do one's best, and to view setbacks as opportunities for growth and learning. more »
31 fans
Translation
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Poetry.com" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 31 May 2023. <https://www.poetry.com/>.
.jpg/225px-Rudyard_Kipling_(portrait).jpg "Rudyard Kipling"){kind=small}
Discuss the poem "Count That Day Lost" with the community...
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In