Our Own

If I had known in the morning

How wearily all the day

The words unkind would trouble my mind

That I said when you went away,

I had been more careful, darling,

Nor given you needless pain;

But we vex our own with look and tone

We may never take back again.

For though in the quiet evening

You may give me the kiss of peace,

Yet it well might be that never for me

The pain of the heart should cease!

How many go forth at morning

Who never come home at night!

And hearts have broken for harsh words spoken

That sorrow can ne'er set right.

We have careful thought for the strangers,

And smiles for the sometime guest;

But oft for "our own" the bitter tone,

Though we love our own the best.

Ah! Lips with the curve impatient,

Ah! Brow with the shade of scorn,

'Twere a cruel fate, were the night too late

To undo the work of the morn!

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Margaret E. Sangster

The Best Loved Poems of the American People, page59.

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