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A Tribute to Mother
I plucked from my garden a Rose of rare hue,
And a Lily so stately and tall
I added some Violets, the bluest of blue;
As I mused in the silence of splendor, so rare,
And told me of beauty so wondrous, so fair
Of mothers sent down from above.
She stands like the Lily, in regal array,
A tower to each child she has borne;
And patiently, tenderly, points out the Way,
And daily sends prayers to the throne.
A heart like the Rose, with petals unfurled,
She carries the burden of men;
No fainting, to crying as each dart is hurled
She must stay true to the end.
The Violets so blue, are like her clear eyes,
That penetrate into each soul;
She knows when we falter, and knowingly sighs,
But Faith, keeps her eye on the goal.
She clings like the Ivy, entwined in His love,
He whispers as low as the coo of the Dove,
You are home - you are home - you can rest.
-Elizabeth Wallace Morehead-
Copyright owned by the
Wallace and Morehead
families.
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~ ~ Updated April 13, 2001 ~ ~