Anyone.

Is anybody happier because you passed his way?

     Does anyone remember that you spoke to him today?

This day is almost over, and its toiling time is through;

     Is there anyone to utter now a kindly word of you?

Did you give a cheerful greeting to the friend who came along?

     Or a churlish sort of "Howdy" and then vanish in the throng?

Were you selfish pure and simple as you rushed along the way,

     Or is someone mighty grateful for a deed you did today?

Can you say tonight, in parting with the day that's slipping fast,

     That you helped a single brother of the many that you passed?

Is a single heart rejoicing over what you did or said;

     Does a man whose hopes were fading now with courage look ahead?

Did you waste the day, or lose it, was it well or sorely spent?

     Did you leave a trail of kindness or a scar of discontent?

As you close your eyes in slumber do you think that God would say,

     You have earned one more tomorrow by the work you did 

 

Edgar Guest (1881 - 1959)  was born in England,  but moved with his family to Detroit, Michigan, when he was ten years old. He worked for more than sixty years at the Detroit Free Press, publishing his first poem at the age of seventeen, then going on to become a reporter and columnist whose work was featured in hundreds of newspapers around the country. Edgar is said to have written some 11,000 poems during his lifetime, most of it sentimental, short, upbeat verse. Critics often derided his work, but America adored him. He was known as the "People's Poet,"