an English poem about mother's day
What rules the World?
*** What dominates the world * *-by William Ross Wallace. * * * 1819–1881 * *
They say that man is mighty,
It is said that manpower is infinite
He governments land and sea;
Dominate the landing site and the sea
He wields a mighty scepter
Exercise supreme kingship
O 'erless powers that be;
rules the weak creatures
but a mighty power and stronger,
however, there is a more powerful force
man from his throat has been hurled,
lifting people from the throne
and the hand that rocks the cradle
are those hands that gently push the cradle.
They dominate the whole world.
English poems about Mother's Day II
Precious memories. ories
Precious memories, unseen angels
Sent from somewhere to my soul
How they linger, Evernear me
and the sacred scenes unfolded.
Precious memories,
deep in my heart,
come from invisible angels,
they linger around me,
so close,
slowly unfold the fleeting past.
precious memories, how they linger
how they ever flood my soul
in the stillness of the midnight
precious, sacred scenes unfolded.
Precious memories,
so lingering,
like a flood,
overflowing in my soul.
The past scene,
precious and sacred,
opens in this silent night.
precious father, loving mother
fly across the lonely years
and old home scenes of my childhood
in fond memory appearance.
Dear father,
kind mother,
flew over the lonely years.
the scenery of my hometown in my childhood
reappears in my kind memories.
in the stillness of the midnight
echoes from the past I hear
old-time singing, gladness bringing
from that lovely land somewhere.
In the quiet midnight,
I heard the echo of the past,
old songs
from that lovely place.
I remember mother praying
father, too, on bended knee
sun is sinking, shadows falling
but their prayers still follow me.
I remember my kneeling mother praying,
so did my father,
the sun was setting,
.
as I travel on life's path
know not what the years may hold
as I pond, hope grows fonder
precious memories flood my soul.
When I trudge on the road of life,
I don't know what the years ahead will bring me;
When I meditate deeply,
I know how to cherish,
Precious memories are like floods
overflowing in the depths of my soul.
Homesickness
When I was a child,
When I was a child,
Nostalgia Seemed a * * * All Stamp:
Homesickness is a small stamp,
"Here am I
I am here,
and there ...
Then I was a grown-up,
When I grow up,
Nostalgia become a traveling ticket:
Homesickness is a narrow ticket,
"Here am I
I'm here,
and there ... My bride."
The bride is here.
During the later years,
later!
Nostalgia turned to be a grave:
Homesickness is a short grave,
"Here am I
I am outside,
and yonder ... My mother."
My mother is inside.
And now at present,
and now,
Nostalgia Looms large to be a channel:
Homesickness is a shallow strait,
"Here am I
I'm here,
and yonder ... My Continent!"
the mainland is over there.