NO matter how far our feet may rove, When weary and worn in constant strife, Mother and home are the best of life. Blessed is he who may smilingly say, "I'm going home to mother to-day." God's mercy hallows that home so dear, Where mother our footsteps waits to hear. Bless the busy hand and the cheery smile That brighten and comfort all the while; Nothing on earth can with home compare When a loving mother waits us there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH: IN OBITUM M.S. XO MAIJ, 1614 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) DIRGE (1) by RALPH WALDO EMERSON POLWART ON THE GREEN by ALLAN RAMSAY THE HEART KNOWETH ITS OWN BITTERNESS' (2) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI COQUETTE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |