OUR OWN.
Reading edition
BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER.
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 might 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 stranger, And smiles for the sometime guest, But oft for our own the bitter tone, Though we love our own the best. Ah, lip with the curve impatient, Ah, brow with the shade of scorn, 'T were a cruel fate were the night too late To undue the work of morn.