My mother has the prettiest tricks Of words and words and words. Her talk comes out as smooth and sleek As breasts of singing birds. She shapes her speech all silver fine Because she loves it so. And her own eyes begin to shine To hear her stories grow. And if she goes to make a call Or out to take a walk, We leave our work when she returns And run to hear her talk. We had not dreamed these things were so Of sorrow and of mirth. Her speech is as a thousand eyes Through which we see the earth. God wove a web of loveliness, Of clouds and stars and birds, But made not anything at all So beautiful as words. They shine around our simple earth With golden shadowings, And every common thing they touch Is exquisite with wings. There's nothing poor and nothing small But is made fair with them. They are the hands of living faith That touch the garment's hem. They are as fair as bloom or air, They shine like any star, And I am rich who learned from her How beautiful they are. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WAITING IN THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL by CLARENCE MAJOR FOR LAUREL AND HARDY ON MY WORKROOM WALL by DAVID WAGONER ANDREA DEL SARTO (CALLED THE FAULTLESS PAINTER) by ROBERT BROWNING THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER by GEORGE CANNING PROMETHEUS by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE SONNET TO ALISA ROCK by JOHN KEATS |