God bless my mother; all that I am or ever hope to be I owe to her. (Abraham Lincoln). Lincoln may have said it first, but I concur.
Happy birthday, Mother!
To My Mother
Christina Rosetti (1842)
Today's your natal day,
Sweet flowers I bring,
Mother, accept, I pray
My offering.
And may you happy live
And long us bless
Receiving as you give
Great happiness.
Sonnets are full of love
Christina Rosetti (1881)
Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome
Has many sonnets: so here now shall be
One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me
To her whose heart is my heart’s quiet home,
To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee
I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;
Whose service is my special dignity,
And she my loadstar while I go and come
And so because you love me, and because
I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath
Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honored name:
In you not fourscore years can dim the flame
Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws
Of time and change and mortal life and death.
Has many sonnets: so here now shall be
One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me
To her whose heart is my heart’s quiet home,
To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee
I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;
Whose service is my special dignity,
And she my loadstar while I go and come
And so because you love me, and because
I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath
Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honored name:
In you not fourscore years can dim the flame
Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws
Of time and change and mortal life and death.
“My mother... she is beautiful, softened at the edges and tempered with a spine of steel. I want to grow old and be like her.”
--Jodi Picoult
--Jodi Picoult
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