Isn't it fine when the day is done, <br />And the petty battles are lost or won, <br />When the gold is made and the ink is dried, <br />To quit the struggle and turn aside <br />To spend an hour with your boy in play, <br />And let him race all of your cares away? <br /> <br />Isn't it fine when the day's gone well, <br />When you have glorious tales to tell, <br />And your heart is light and your head is high. <br />For nothing has happened to make you sigh, <br />To hurry homewards to share the joy <br />That your work has won with a little boy? <br /> <br />Isn't it fine, whether good or bad <br />Has come to the hopes and the plans you had, <br />And the day is over, to find him there, <br />Thinking you splendid and just and fair, <br />Ready to chase all your griefs away, <br />And soothe your soul with an hour of play? <br /> <br />Oh, whether the day's been long or brief, <br />Whether it's brought to me joy or grief, <br />Whether I've failed, or whether I've won, <br />It shall matter not when the work is done; <br />I shall count it fine if I end each day <br />With a little boy in an hour of play.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fine-14/
