Sometimes Poem by Maggie Pogue Johnson

Sometimes the days seem dark and dreary,
We wonder what is life;
Sometimes of work we soon grow weary,
All pleasures seem but strife.
Sometimes of aiming we grow tired,
And finally give up all,
Leaving the mind once inspired,
Heedless to a call.
Sometimes we give no thought to those
Who in some way we might aid;
Sometimes others' pains and woes
Are at our mercies laid.
Sometimes if we'd stop to think
And count the good deeds we do
To help those on Poverty's brink
We'd find them to be few.
Sometimes a good act we might render
By saying some kind words,
To those whose hearts so tender
By kindness has ne'er been stirred.
Sometimes 'twould help us to resolve
That each day while we live,
Some difficult problem we will solve,
Or aid to others give.
And thus instead of wondering,
And making all efforts strife—
Instead of always pondering,
To find out what is life,—
By our actions, by the deeds we do,
Each day while we live,
Let them be many, or let them be few,
We make life what it is.