Poem: “Mother’s Day” by Edgar A. Guest

A Heap o’ Livin’

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American Literature – American Poetry – Edgar A. Guest – Poems by Edgar A. Guest – A Heap o’ Livin’
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Mother’s Day

Gentle hands that never weary toiling in love’s
      vineyard sweet,
  Eyes that seem forever cheery when our eyes
      they chance to meet,
  Tender, patient, brave, devoted, this is always
      mother’s way,
  Could her worth in gold be quoted as you think
      of her to-day?

  There shall never be another quite so tender,
      quite so kind
  As the patient little mother; nowhere on this
      earth you’ll find
  Her affection duplicated; none so proud if you
      are fine.
  Could her worth be overstated? Not by any
      words of mine.

  Death stood near the hour she bore us, agony
      was hers to know,
  Yet she bravely faced it for us, smiling in her
      time of woe;
  Down the years how oft we’ve tried her, often
      selfish, heedless, blind,
  Yet with love alone to guide her she was never
      once unkind.

  Vain are all our tributes to her if in words
      alone they dwell.
  We must live the praises due her; there’s no
      other way to tell
  Gentle mother that we love her. Would you say,
      as you recall
  All the patient service of her, you’ve been
      worthy of it all?

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American Literature – American Poetry – Edgar A. Guest – Poems by Edgar A. Guest – A Heap o’ Livin’

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