by Margaret Elizabeth Sangster (1838 - 1912)
It isn't the thing you do, dear
Language: English
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 tender word forgotten, The letter you did not write, The flower you might have sent, dear, Are your haunting ghosts to-night. The stone you might have lifted Out of brother's way, The bit of heartsome counsel You were hurried too much to say; The loving touch of the hand, dear, The gentle and winsome tone, That you had no time nor thought for, With troubles enough of your own. The little acts of kindness, So easily out of mind; Those chances to be angels Which every one may find They come in night and silence Each chill, reproachful wraith When hope is faint and flagging And a blight has dropped on faith. For life is all too short, dear, And sorrow is all too great; To suffer our great compassion That tarries until too late; And it's not the thing you do, dear, It's the thing you leave undone, Which gives you the bit of heartache At the setting of the sun.
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Authorship:
- by Margaret Elizabeth Sangster (1838 - 1912), "The Sin Of Omission" [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Wintter Haynes Watts (1884 - 1962), "It isn't the thing you do, dear", published 1910 [ voice and piano ], from Five songs with piano accompaniment, no. 3, New York, G. Schirmer ; Boston, Boston Music Co. [sung text not yet checked]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2020-10-07
Line count: 32
Word count: 189