and their day goes over idleness,

and they sigh if the wind but lift the tress.

while i must work, because i am old,

and the seed of the fire gets feeble and cold.

Mom, you're a wonderful mother,

So gentle, yet so strong.

The many ways you show you care

Always make me feel I belong.

You're patient when I'm foolish;

You give guidance when I ask;

It seems you can do most anything;

You're the master of every task.

You're a dependable source of comfort;

You're my cushion when I fall.

You help in times of trouble;

You support me whenever I call.

I love you more than you know;

You have my total respect.

If I had my choice of mothers,

You'd be the one I'd select!

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;

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!

“M” is for the million things she gave me,

“O” means only that she is growing old,

“T” is for the tears she shed to save me,

“H” is for her heart of purest gold,

“E” is for her eyes,with love-light shining,

“R” means right,and right she will always be.

Put them all together,

they spell “MOTHER”,

A word that means the world to me.

They say that man is mighty,

He governs land and sea;

He wields a mighty scepter

O’er lesser powers that be;

But a mightier power and stronger,

Man from his throne has hurled,

And the hand that rocks the cradle

Is the hand that rules the world.

Before Two Portraits 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.

If I could give you diamonds,for each tear you cried for me

If I could give you sapphires, for each truth you’ve helped me see

If I could give you rubies, for the heartache that you’ve known

If I could give you pearls,for the wisdom that you’ve shown

Then you’ll have a treasure, mother

that would mount up to the skies

That would almost match the sparkle in your kind and loving eyes

But I have no pearls, no diamonds

as I’m sure you’re well aware

So I’ll give you gifts more precious,my devotion, love and care