The Finer Thought
                                                                              Edgar Guest

      How fine it is at night to say:
      I have not wronged a soul today.
      I have not by a word or deed,
      In any breast sowed anger's seed,

      Or caused a fellow being pain;
      Nor is there on my crest a stain
      That shame has left. In honor's way,
      With head erect, I've lived this day.

      When night slips down and day departs
      And rest returns to weary hearts,
      How fine it is to close the book
      Of records for the day, and look

      Once more along the traveled mile
      And find that all has been worth while;
      To say: In honor I have toiled;
      My plume is spotless and unsoiled.

      Yet cold and stern a man may be
      Retaining his integrity;
      And he may pass from day to day
      A spirit dead, in living clay,

      Observing strictly morals, laws,
      Yet serving but a selfish cause;
      So it is not enough to say:
      I have not stooped to shame today!

      It is a finer, nobler thought
      When day is done and night has brought
      The contemplative hours and sweet,
      And rest to weary hearts and feet,

      If man can stand in truth and say:
      I have been useful here today.
      Back there is one I chanced to see
      With hope newborn because of me.

      This day in honor I have toiled;
      My shining crest is still unsoiled;
      But on the mile I leave behind
      Is one who says that I was kind;

      And someone hums a cheerful song
      Because I chanced to come along.
      Sweet rest at night that man shall own
      Who has not lived his day alone.