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Mother's Day Poems

Poems for Mom

Mother's Day Ryhmes and Verses

Are you looking for special Mother's Day poems and poems for your mom? We have some classic poetry from a variety of poets here. Below you will find a host of quotes, poems, wishes, quotes and verses to write inside a Mother's Day card. Surprise your mother on her special day with a special greeting.

Woman and baby with palm tree


Modern Mother's Day Poetry
- Poems submitted by our readers -

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Classic Mother's Day Poetry

To the Best of Women, My Mother.
by Arthur H. Adams

I would give it all up at a word from you, Mother o' mine!
But the strife has begun
That I dare not shun:
Yet my heart looks home to the rest it knew,
To the questionless trust and the welcome true;
And you call to me now as you used to do, Mother o' mine!

The wonderful years that we shared are flown, Mother o' mine!
The world has won
The heart of your son;
The child has died in the man full grown;
The path of my life I must tread alone,
And I dare not return when you call your own, Mother o' mine!

My heart in the chill of the world grows cold, Mother o' mine!
But lives may run
Ere your love be done,
And the child I remember you still enfold
In the passionate peace of your heart's warm hold -
For ever for you I'm the child of old, Mother o' mine!

Arthur Henry Adams (1872 - 1936) was a journalist and author from New Zealand.

Rock Me to Sleep
by Elizabeth Akers Allen

Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for tonight!
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;-
Rock me to sleep, mother, - rock me to sleep!

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When God thought of mother,
by Henry Ward Beecher

When God thought of mother,
He must have laughed with satisfaction,
and framed it quickly -
so rich, so deep, so divine,
so full of soul, power, and beauty,
was the conception.

Henry Ward Beecher (1813 - 1887) was a clergyman and social reformer.

Only One Mother
by George Cooper

Hundreds of stars in the pretty sky,
Hundreds of shells on the shore together,
Hundreds of birds that go singing by,
Hundreds of lambs in the sunny weather,
Hundreds of dewdrops to greet the dawn,
Hundreds of bees in the purple clover,
Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn,
But only one mother the world wide over.

George Cooper (1840 - 1927) was an American poet.

Heart with 'mom' engraved

To Mother
by Thomas W. Fessenden

You painted no Madonnas
On chapel walls in Rome,
But with a touch diviner
You lived one in your home.

You wrote no lofty poems
That critics counted art,
But with a nobler vision
You lived them in your heart.

You carved no shapeless marble
To some high-souled design,
But with a finer sculpture
You shaped this soul of mine.

You built no great cathedrals
That centuries applaud,
But with a grace exquisite
Your life cathedraled God.

Had I the gift of Raphael,
Or Michelangelo,
Oh, what a rare Madonna
My mother's life would show!

Thomas Green Fessenden (1771 - 1837) was an American author and editor.

by Howard Johnson

"M" is for the million things she gave me,
"O" means only that she's 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'll always be,
Put them all together, they spell "MOTHER,"
A word that means the world to me.

Howard Johnson (1887- 1941) was an American song lyricist.

Mother o' Mine
by Rudyard Kipling

If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
I know whose love would follow me still,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!

If I were drowned in the deepest sea,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
I know whose tears would come down to me,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!

If I were damned of body and soul,
I know whose prayers would make me whole,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!

Joseph Rudyard Kipling (1865 - 1936) was an English short-story writer, poet, and novelist.

To My Mother
by Edgar Allan Poe
(A poem for a mother-in-law)

Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of "Mother,"
Therefore by that dear name I long have called you-
You who are more than mother unto me,
And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you
In setting my Virginia's spirit free.
My mother-my own mother, who died early,
Was but the mother of myself; but you
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,
And thus are dearer than the mother I knew
By that infinity with which my wife
Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.

Edgar Allan Poe (1809 - 1849) was an American author and poet.

Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome
by Christina Rossetti

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.

Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830 - 1894) was an English poet.

A woman and a child on the beach at dusk

To My Mother
by Christina Rossetti
- Excerpt -

And may you happy live,
And long us bless;
Receiving as you give
Great happiness.

Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830 - 1894) was an English poet.

To My Mother
by Robert Louis Stevenson

You too, my mother, read my rhymes
For love of unforgotten times,
And you may chance to hear once more
The little feet along the floor.

Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson (1850 - 1894) was a Scottish novelist, poet and travel writer.

My Mother
by Jane Taylor

Who fed me from her gentle breast
And hushed me in her arms to rest,
And on my cheek sweet kisses prest?
My mother.
When sleep forsook my open eye,
Who was it sung sweet lullaby
And rocked me that I should not cry?
My mother.

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To Mother
by Marina Tsvetaeva

In the old Strauss waltz for the first time
We had listened to your quiet call,
Since then all the living things are alien
And the knocking of the clock consoles.

We, like you, are gladly greeting sunsets,
And are drunk on nearness of the end.
All, with which on better nights we're wealthy
Is put in the hearts by your own hand.

Bowing to a child's dreams with no tire.
(Only crescent looked in them indeed
Without you)! You have led your kids past
Bitter lifetime of the thoughts and deeds.

From the early age the sad one's close to us,
Laughter bores and home we left behind..
Our ship not in good times left the harbor
And it sails by will of every wind!

Azure isle of childhood is paling,
On the deck of ship we stand alone.
It appears, oh mother, to your daughters
You've left an inheritance of woe.

Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva (October (1892 - 1941) was a Russian and Soviet poet.

The Hand That Rocks The Cradle
by William Ross Wallace

The Hand that rocks the Cradle
Is The Hand That Rules The World
Blessings on the hand of women!
Angels guard its strength and grace,
In the palace, cottage, hovel,
Oh, no matter where the place;
Would that never storms assailed it,
Rainbows ever gently curled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

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A heart and a rose

Unfolded Out of the Folds
by Walt Whitman

UNFOLDED out of the folds of the woman,
man comes unfolded, and is always to come unfolded;
Unfolded only out of the superbest woman of the earth,
is to come the superbest man of the earth;
Unfolded out of the friendliest woman,
is to come the friendliest man;
Unfolded only out of the perfect body of a woman,
can a man be form'd of perfect body;
Unfolded only out of the inimitable poem of the woman,
can come the poems of man-(only thence have my poems come;)
Unfolded out of the strong and arrogant woman I love,
only thence can appear the strong and arrogant man I love;
Unfolded by brawny embraces from the well-muscled woman I love,
only thence come the brawny embraces of the man;
Unfolded out of the folds of the woman's brain,
come all the folds of the man's brain, duly obedient;
Unfolded out of the justice of the woman,
all justice is unfolded;
Unfolded out of the sympathy of the woman is all sympathy:
A man is a great thing upon the earth, and through eternity -
but every jot of the greatness of man is unfolded out of woman,
First the man is shaped in the woman,
he can then be shaped in himself.

Walter "Walt" Whitman (1819 - 1892) was an American poet.

Tribute to Mother
by John Greenleaf Whittier

A picture memory brings to me;
I look across the years and see
Myself beside my mother's knee.
I feel her gentle hand restrain
My selfish moods, and know again
A child's blind sense of wrong and pain.
But wiser now,
a man gray grown,
My childhood's needs are better known.
My mother's chastening love I own.

John Greenleaf Whittier (1807 - 1892) was an American poet.

The Heart of the Woman
by W. B. Yeats
- Excerpt -

O what to me my mother's care,
The house where I was safe and warm;
The shadowy blossom of my hair
Will hide us from the bitter storm.

William Butler Yeats (1865 - 1939) was an Irish poet.

The Player Queen
by W. B. Yeats
(Song from an Unfinished Play)

My mother dandled me and sang,
'How young it is, how young!'
And made a golden cradle
That on a willow swung.

'He went away,' my mother sang,
'When I was brought to bed,'
And all the while her needle pulled
The gold and silver thread.

She pulled the thread and bit the thread
And made a golden gown,
And wept because she had dreamt that I
Was born to wear a crown.

'When she was got,' my mother sang,
'I heard a sea-mew cry,
And saw a flake of the yellow foam
That dropped upon my thigh.'

How therefore could she help but braid
The gold into my hair,
And dream that I should carry
The golden top of care?

William Butler Yeats (1865 - 1939) was an Irish poet.

Short Mother's Day Quotes:
A collection of short Mother's Day Quotes

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About the Origins of Mother's Day

Mother's Day is a public holiday in honor of mothers and motherhood. Mother's Day is an American invention, and it is not directly descended from the many celebrations of mothers and motherhood that have occurred throughout the world over thousands of years and which are often rooted in older traditions.
It is celebrated on various days:

Mother's Day (Mothering Sunday) in UK & Ireland
(Fourth Sunday of Lent)

2015: 15th March
2016: 06th March

Mother's Day in USA, Canada, Australia & New Zealand
(Second Sunday in May)

2015: 10th May
2016: 08th May