Whether it be mothers day or your moms birthday or just because, a poem on
mother is always a nice way to reach out to your mother or share your love. Find
several poems about mothers here to help you in your search.
me when beauty shall fade and depart. And the golden locks silver to gray,
“Mother o’ Mine" shall still reign in my heart. Its queen as thou reignest
today. Every precept for good, ev’ry aim for the right. Thou hast deeply
instilled in my heart; Thou hast taught me the tempter to shun and to fight,
ne’er from right ways to depart.
hast taught me to walk in the old-fashioned way, That will lead me at last up
above, For thy sons and thy daughters thou ever dost pray, That their hearts may
be filled with God’s love. Ne’er on earth shalt thy life find its true, rich
reward. But as truly as God reigns on high Thou shall meet Him, and hear His
sweet meet welcome - “Well done." In the land of the “Sweet Bye and Bye." Pauline P.
Arnold Love Sayings
ago a poem I read, And I classed it with any other, Just a poem, the title read
- “What a wonderful thing – a Mother!"
I tossed it
aside like a story book, Never gave it another look; But today through my mind
like a babbling brook - “What a wonderful thing – a Mother!"
her boy, for what today? For the hellish din of the battle fray; Her hope, her
joy, she gives away, And she stays at home to hope and pray. - “What a wonderful
thing – a Mother!"
is sore, but she wears a smile; She’s glad to know her boy’s worth while;
he’s being a man, and in manly style, He’s doing his bit in the rank and file, -
“What a wonderful thing – a Mother!"
enough for a man to die, But the brave one is she who stiffles a sigh; Who ears
a smile that hides a cry As she bids her very all – good-bye, - “What a
wonderful thing – a Mother!"
I’ve got a
mother with a heart that’s true; Who does the things that mothers do; And her
for, God, I do thank you - - “What a wonderful thing – a Mother!" What To
Write In A Thank You Card
write a thousand letters tot he maiden you adore, And declare in ever letter
that you love her more and more; You may praise her grace and beauty in a
thousand glowing lines And compare her eyes of azure with the brightest start
that shines. If you had the pen of Byron you would use it every day In composing
written worship to your sweetheart far away; But the letter far more welcome to
an older, gentler breast Is the letter to your mother from the boy she loves the
blood is fierce and flaming, and when writing to your love You will rave about
your passion, swearing by the stars above; Vowing by the moon’s white splendor
that the girlie you adore Is the one you’ll ever cherish as no maid was loved
before. You will pen full many a promise on those pages white and dumb That you
never can live up to in the married years to come. But as much more precious
letter, bringing more and deeper bliss, Is the letter to your mother from the
boy she cannot kiss.
read it very often when the lights are soft and low, Sitting in the same old
corner where she held you years ago; And regardless of its diction or its
spelling or its style, And although its composition would provoke a critic’s
smile, In her old and trembling fingers it becomes a work of art, Stained by
tears of joy and sadness as she hugs I to her heart; Yes, the letter of all
letters, look wherever you may roam, Is the letter to your mother from her boy
away from home. Frank M.
Vaneil I Love You So
world’s gay throng of fashion, oft we meet with ladies grand, With fame and
style and oh such beauty sculptured by rare nature’s hand. Mingled with their
cultured talents and their cunningness to please Lurk the charms that please so
many men of all – degrees. Thus we learn to cherish them dearly, also father,
sister, sweetheart, brother; But grander visions loom to memory when we hear the
name of mother.
toiled so long and faithful yet had pleasant smiles to wear She who tried to
make others happy though she had to grin and bear; Many burdens tried her
patience as they came anew each day, With the same sweet smile that greeted us,
as we would hear her say Consoling words to comfort, when all others were in
vain, While we loved to have her near us, whene’re we were in pain.
We learn to
honor these kind deeds mostly after she is gone, And her gray hair lies
mouldering beneath some grassy lawn. ‘Tis then we long for one short look into
that dear old face, And for one brief spell, just those careworn marks to trace,
So wandering down life’s weary stream we are asking one another If there’s any
human being that can take the place of mother.
She like the flowers doth bloom and fade; Too soon she departs to the realms of
shade, Though after she withers and goes back to dust, We do not forget her but
long for her thus. Home, home, sweet, sweet home, is lisped from one shore to
the other; Mother, mother, dear, sweet mother, what is home without a mother. Harry G.
Cole I Miss You
Only A Day
I’ve a bargain to make with you; Take one whole year of roses and rue, Give me a
day in its place – A day you will find in the past somewhere. With sunshine and
springtime and all things fair Centered in one sweet face.
O Time, you
have cheated me through the years, Stolen my laughter and left me your tears,
While signs I must vainly smother. My life is sad ‘neath its load of woe,
days are gray and the years move slow – Give me one glad day with mother.
For I know
bright hours would come again, Joy would conquer my heart’s strong pain, Could a
boon be mine like this, My youth’s illusions, now lost and dead, Would return
with her touch on my aching head, And the world grow new with her kiss.
year of shadow and night – What a bargain is this for one day of light! You will
never find such another. Take what you will of sorrow and bloom, Call back a
voice from the silent tomb – Give me a day with mother. Ella Z.
Harris Memorial Poems
tis breathed on battlefields, And from the dying bed; Name that we chisel on the
stone Above our holiest dead; Name that twe lisped in infancy, The first we
learned to call; Name that endures when memory Can naught but that recall;
that means rest and tenderness Our lips can frame no other – So precious that
‘tis half divine – The blessed name of Mother
starts in the pretty sky, Hundreds of shells on the shore together; Hundreds of
birds that go singing by, Hundreds of bees in the sunny weather.
dewdrops to greet the dawn, Hundreds of lambs in the purple clover; Hundreds of
lambs in the purple clover; Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn, But only one
mother the world over. George
to give the sweetest thing, In His mighty power, 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. G. Newell
Mother's Day Poems:
the white carnation, Sturdy and spicy and sweet, Wafting a breath of perfume
the stony way of the street; Bringing a freight of gladness Whenever the breezes
blow; Here’s to the white carnation, Pure as the virgin snow.
This is the
flower for mother, Wear it on Mothers’ Day; Flower for rain and sunshine, Winsome, gallant and gay,
Wear it in mother’s honor, Pinned to the coat’s lapel; Wear it in belt and courage,
For her that you love so well.
in lowly cabin, Or mother in palace hall, Is ever the truest and dearest,
ever the best of all. In travail and pain she bore us, In laughter and love she
nursed, And who that would shame the mother Is of all mankind accursed.
wan to often, Weary and weak at times, But always full of the courage
thrills when the future chimes. Mother with hands toil-hardened, Mother in
pearls and lace, The light of heavenly beauty Shines in her tender face.
to the white carnation, Wear it on Mothers’ Day; Flower that blooms for mother, Winsome, gallant and gay.
Flower of a perfect sweetness, Flower for hut and
hall, Here’s to the white carnation, And to mother – our best of all. Margaret E.
Mother’s Day we celebrate, ‘Tis Mother’s Day we are making great, ‘Tis mother’s
name we emulate, On this bright, lovely day in May, Oh may our lives devoted be,
Our memories hold her lovingly, Dear, patient motherhood, so good and true
never shall forget to honor you.
childhood’s time to manhood’s prime, Her love is felt in every chime, In trials
deep, like mountains steep, Its soothing power is most sublime; When joys abide
and success betide, She shares it all with wondrous pride; Dear, faithful
motherhood, so great and true, We never shall forget to honor you.
next poem is a great poem to personalize. You can replace the names, eye and
hair colour to match your family and if you want to get really creative you
can change even more of it: (don't forget to
change all the pronouns(he, her, she...)
has been “Mother’s Day" Since her black-eyed first-born came to stay.
boy, Then rollicking
Edna, brimful of joy.
child of grace, With her
curly mop of hair and her solemn little face.
Ray – just a little wild,
Then ‘long came
white-haired “Angel Child".
Alyne – always mother’s pet,
She’s nearly grown now and just a baby yet. But
when it comes to mothers – Say, we got the prize In our pretty little mother,
with her bright brown eyes. Blanche