Mother is an umbrella in spring, a cotton coat in winter, an ice cream in summer, and a fallen leaf in autumn.
I have compiled English poems written to my mother, welcome to read!
English poems written to my mother 1
Mother's Love
There is no love, like a mother's love,
no stronger bond on earth...
like the precious bond that comes from God,
to a mother, when she gives birth.
A mother's love is forever strong,
never changing for all time...
and when her children need her most,
A mother's love will shine.
God bless these special mothers,
God bless them every one...
for all the tears and heartache, < /p>
And for the special work they've done.
When her days on earth are over,
a mother's love lives on...
Through many generations,
with God's blessings on each one.
Be thankful for our mothers,
for they love with a higher love.. .
from the power God has given,
and the strength from up above.
----by Jill Lemming English Psalm 2 for Mother
Mother Machree There's a spot in my heart which no colleen may own;
There's a depth in my soul never sounded or known;
There's a place in my memory my life that you fill;
No other can take it no one ever will;
Every sorrow or care in the dear days gone by;
Was made bright by the light of the smile in your eye;
Like a candle that's set in a window at night;
Your fond love has cheered me and guided me right;
p>
Sure I love the dear silver that shines in your hair;
And the brow that's all furrowed and wrinkled with care;
I kiss the dear fingers so toil warm for me;
Oh! God bless you and keep you, mother machree! Three English Psalms to Mother
Before Two Portraits of My Mother
Two In front of a portrait of my mother
I love the beautiful young girl of this
portrait, my mother, painted years ago
when her forehead was white, and there was no
shadow in the dazzling Venetian glass
of her gaze. But this other likeness shows
the deep trenches across her forehead?s white
marble. The rose poem of her youth that
her marriage sang is far behind. Here is
my sadness: I compare these portraits, one
Of a joy-radiant brow, the other care-
heavy: sunrise? and the thick coming on
of night. And yet how strange my ways appear,
for when I look at these faded lips my heart
smiles, but at the smiling girl my tears start.
Emile Nelligan (1879-1941)
I deeply love the portrait of this beautiful girl,
She is my mother, painted many years ago
Her forehead was white and flawless at that time
Shining like Venetian glass, there was no shadow in her eyes.
But another portrait shows deep lines covering her forehead as smooth as white marble
The rose love poem of her youth
It was sung at her wedding, but now it’s gone.
My heart is sad at this time: Comparing these two portraits
One looks happy, the other seems worried
One is like the rising sun
The other is like an oncoming gloomy night.
However, my reaction seemed unusual
Because when I looked at her lips that had lost their luster,
My heart smiled, but looking at The smiling girl
My tears started to well up.
Emily Nelligen (1879-1941)