At the setting of the sun.........................

It isn't the thing you do, dear,
   It's the thing you leave undone
That gives you a bit of a heartache
   At setting of the sun.
The tender work forgotten,
   The letter you did not write,
The flowers you did not send, dear,
   Are your haunting ghosts at night.

The stone you might have lifted
   Out of a brother's way;
The bit of heartsome counsel
   You were hurried too much to say;
The loving touch of the hand, dear,
   The gentle, winning tone
Which you had no time nor thought for
   With troubles enough of your own.

Those little acts of kindness
   So easily out of mind,
Those chances to be angels
   Which we poor mortals find -
They come in night and silence,
   Each sad, reproachful wraith,
When hope is faint and flagging,
   And a chill has fallen on faith.

For life is all too short, dear,
   And sorrow is all to great,
To suffer our slow compassion
   That tarries until too late:
And it isn't the thing you do, dear,
   It's the thing you leave undone
Which gives you a bit of heartache
   At the setting of the sun. 

-"The Sin Of Omission"
Margaret E. Sangster