YOU NEED TO KNOW

THOSE WE LOVE THE BEST

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

 

They say the world is round, and yet

I often think it square,

So many little hurts we get

From corners here and there.

But one great truth in life I’ve found,

While journeying to the west

The only folks we really wound

Are those we love the best.

 

The man you thoroughly despise

Can rouse your wrath, it’s true;

Annoyance in your heart will rise

At things mere strangers do;

But those are only passing ills;

This rule all lives will prove;

The rankling wound which aches and thrills

Is dealt by hands we love.

 

The choicest garb, the sweetest grace,

Are oft to strangers shown;

The careless mien, the frowning face,

Are given to our own.

We flatter those we scarcely know,

We please the fleeting guest,

And deal with many thoughtless blow,

To those who love us best.

 

Love does not grow on every tree,

Nor true hearts yearly bloom.

Alas for those who only see,

This cut across the tomb!

But, soon or late, the fact grows plain

To all those sorrows test;

The only folks who give us pain

Are those we love the best.