It is not the things you have done today,
That will haunt you through the year;
It’s the little things you didn’t do,
That will banish joy and cheer.
You did not say “thanks” for the kind deeds alone,
By a friend who lives next door;
You did not say one kind tender word,
To the man, with trials sore.
And the letter you planned to write today,
It was never penned by you;
A cheerful note would have meant so much,
To those far from home – and blue.
The aged lady, that lives down the way,
Whose loved ones, now, are few;
Would have been so pleased with a small bouquet,
From your garden, wet with dew.
These are the things that will haunt you by day,
And keep you awake by night;
It’s the little things that you didn’t do,
That will dim your normal sight.