Those We Love the Best

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, 'tis 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 full many a thoughtless blow
  To those we love the best. . . .

--Ella Wheeler Wilcox