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Our Own

From the Newark Evening Star, April 20, 1915. 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 might never take back again.

For though in the quiet evening
You may give me the kiss of peace,
    Yet it may 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 sometimes 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 the morn.

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