Our Own by Margaret E. Sangster

If I had known in the morning
How wearily all the day
The words unkind
Would trouble my mind
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 might be
That never for me,
The pain of the heart should cease.
How many go forth in the morning,
That never come home at night!
And hearts have broken
For harsh words spoken
That sorrow can ne’er set right.

We have careful thoughts for the stranger,
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 that look of scorn!
‘Twere a cruel fate,
Were the night too late
To undo the work of morn.