I still see our mother with stars in her eyes
As every day yielded the joy of surprise.
The wonder of life on her heart was inscrolled--
Our mother was young and never grew old.
Our mother saw beauty in every dark hour,
The rain through her eyes was a crystalline shower;
Our daffodils, blooming, were goblets of gold--
For mother was young and never grew old.
She gave us the armor of courage to wear
Whose shield was clean living, whose strength bade us dare.
Her heart was truth's chalice. What joy--multifold--
With our little mother who never grew old!
Our mother knew sorrow but never defeat;
Adversity tempered and made her more sweet.
When death's angel called her, new wonder unrolled,
And mother went smilingly-youthful, not old.
The American Bard
