Oh, artist, if I should ask you To paint a picture for me Of a pair of beautiful hands, What, then, would your picture be? Two hands of ivory whiteness As soft as a baby's lips, With nails like glistening seed-pearls On velvety finger-tips? Tapering, slender and shapely, Worthy of jewelled bands; Palms like the petals of rosebuds -- Are these your beautiful hands? To me, my memory pictures A vision softened by tears; Hands not youthful and dainty But weary and worn with years. Hands that are rough from toiling, Calloused, and blemished and scarred, From sewing, washing and sweeping, -- Work that was long and hard. Yet with fingers tender and loving, Banishing care and fears, -- Smoothing pain from an aching head -- Wiping away our tears. Though your hands of fragile beauty Be praised by the world of art, Mother's hands are the beautiful ones I always keep in my heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LORD, HEAR MY PRAYER; A PARAPHRASE OF THE 102ND PSALM by JOHN CLARE A WATERPIECE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 67. THE THREE AGES OF WOMAN: 2 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT HOOKER'S ACROSS by GEORGE HENRY BOKER THESE ALSO ARE LIVING by CARLOS BULOSAN TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. A CHILD AT A WINDOW by EDWARD CARPENTER THE POETS OF OLD ISRAEL by JOHN VANCE CHENEY |