Wednesday, March 28, 2007


Be kind to your mother
You'll ne'er have another,
So cherish her while she is near;
Let no ill will or shame
Ever blight your good name,
That may bring silver threads in her hair.

In days long gone by
When you were but knee high,
On her you could always rely;
She were your best friend,
And on her would depend,
For she shared both your troubles and joy.

As the years they unfold,
And your mother grows old,
Then respect those gray locks in her hair;
Never let it be said
When her spirit has fled
That you caused her remorse or despair.

You'll ne'er find another
To replace your mother,
One who will prove true to the end;
May her old vacant chair
Never cause you a tear,
But instead, happy memories may blend.

July, 1946

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