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A Boy's Mother
Poet: James Whitcomb Riley
My mother she's so good to me,
If I was good as I could be,
I couldn't be as good-no, sir.-
Can't any boy be good as her.
She loves me when I'm glad er sad;
She loves me when I'm good er bad;
An', what's a funniest thing, she says
She loves me when she punishes.
I don't like her to punish me,-
That don't hurt-but it hurts to see
Her cryin'.-Nen I cry; an'nen
We both cry an' be good again.
She loves me when she cuts an' sews
My little cloak an' Sund'y clothes;
An' when my Pa comes home to tea,
She loves him most as much as me.
She laughs an' tells him all I said,
An' grabs me up an' pats my head;
An' I hug her, an' hug my Pa,
An' love him purt' nigh as much as Ma. -
Mother
Poet: G. Newell Lovejoy
God thought to give the sweetest thing in His almighty power
To earth; and deeply pondering what it should be - one hour
In fondest joy and love of heart outweighing every other,
He moved the gates of Heaven apart and gave to earth - a mother! -
One In A Million
Poet: George Cooper
Here's to one in a million.
The dearest, the best;
Like the sun in the heavens.
She outshines the rest!
Don't frown when I tell you
This toast beats all others.
But here's one more toast, boys -
A toast to OUR MOTHERS! -
MY Mother!
Poet: George W. Bethune
I never call that gentle name,
My mother! but I am again
E'en as a child; the very same
That prattled at thy knee; and fain
Would I forget, in momentary joy.
That I no more can be thy happy boy.
I've lived through foreign lands to roam,
And gazed on many a classic scene;
But oft the thought of that dear home,
Which once was ours, would intervene,
And bid me close again my languid eye,
To think of thee and those sweet days gone by.
I've pored o'er many a yellow page
Of ancient wisdom, and have won
Perchance a scholar's name; yet sage
Or poet ne'er have taught thy son
Lessons so pure, so fraught with holy truth.
As those his mother's faith shed o'er his youth. -
The Songs My Mother Sings
Poet: Thomas O'Hagan
Oh, sweet unto the heart is the song my mother sings
As eventide is brooding on its dark and noiseless wings!
Every note is charged with memory -
Every memory bright with rays
Of the golden hour of promise in the lap of childhood days.
The orchard blooms anew, and each blossom scents the way,
And I feel again the breath of eve among the new mown hay;
While through the halls of memory in happy notes there rings
All the life joys of the past in the songs my mother sings.
Poems to celbrate Mom for special days:
Christian Poems For Mothers Day
Birthday Poems For Mom
Retirement Poems For Mom
Mom Poems For Valentines Day
Quotes About Mom
Poems written in love of Mom:
Love For Mom Poems
Mom Poems
Poems To Mother In Heaven
