A picture memory brings to me;

I look across the years and see

Myself beside my mother's knee.

I feel her gentle hand restrain

My selfish moods, and know again

A child's blind sense of wrong and pain.

But wiser now, a man gray grown,

My childhood's needs are better known.

My mother's chastening love I own.

John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892)

M-O-T-H-E-R

"M" is for the million things she gave me,

"O" means only that she's growing old,

"T" is for the tears she shed to save me,

"H" is for her heart of purest gold;

"E" is for her eyes, with love-light shining,

"R" means right, and right she'll always be,

Put them all together, they spell "MOTHER,"

A word that means the world to me.

Howard Johnson (circa 1915)

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