“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.” ”

Brilliant take on life by the poet Robert Service describing each day to be a microcosm of how life plays out. With one exception – that once you sleep your Sleep of Life (death) there is no waking up again…

As an interesting factoid, the poet was a bank employee for his day job…