NEVER was prideful wealth, power, or fame That glanced not back beyond its haughtiness With tenderest longing and a welling eye Unto those earlier days, when a clear flame Burned steadfast on the hearth of home, to bless A past that knew no pomp, to smile and sigh Wistfully for that better, finer part: The unselfishness that is a mother's heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCOLIC COMEDY: THE FOX; FOR ANN PEARN by EDITH SITWELL THE TENTH MUSE: THE VANITY OF ALL WORLDLY THINGS by ANNE BRADSTREET THE YELLOW VIOLET by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT DOUGLASS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SEVEN TIMES THREE [ - LOVE] by JEAN INGELOW THE LAMENT OF THE FLOWERS by JONES VERY ON THE STATUE OF AN ANGEL, BY BIENAIME by WASHINGTON ALLSTON |