Praise mother's ancient poems.

Mourn for my parents and give birth to me. The Book of Songs

The old white-headed mother hid her face and cried, and her shirt and sleeves were broken. Han Yu

With a loving mother, the prodigal son does not feel cold. Song of exhorting filial piety

The Wandering Son, Tang Meng Jiao

The mother used the needle and thread in her hand to make clothes for her long-distance son.

Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged.

But how much love an inch of grass has is three times!

Get home at the end of the year Qingjiang Shiquan

I love my son endlessly, and I'm glad to go home.

Cold clothes are needle and thread, and letters from home are ink stains.

If you encounter pity, you will ask for it.

I am ashamed of the son of man and dare not sigh to the dust.

"Drying old clothes" Qing Zhou Shouchang

The robe is still there and the collar is still warm.

I can't bear to take it lightly when sewing again, and there are old thread marks of loving mothers on it.

Hope to adopt