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Each Day A Life

 I count each day a little life,
 With birth and death complete;
I cloister it from care and strife
 And keep it sane and sweet.
With eager eyes I greet the morn, Exultant as a boy, Knowing that I am newly born To wonder and to joy.
And when the sunset splendours wane And ripe for rest am I, Knowing that I will live again, Exultantly I die.
O that all Life were but a Day Sunny and sweet and sane! And that at Even I might say: "I sleep to wake again.
"

Poem by Robert William Service
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