A beautiful bouquet of words full of hope and love:
“All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel Mother.”
“Mama was my greatest teacher, a teacher of compassion, love and fearlessness.
If love is sweet as a flower, then my mother is that sweet flower of love.”
“This heart, my own dear mother, bends, with love’s true instinct, back to thee!”
God could not be everywhere and therefore he made mothers.
Winifred Sackville Stoner, Jr.
Of all the hours of day or night
Give me the twilight hour,
When little birds hide out of sight
And every sylvan bower
Is filled with their sweet good night song,
While darkness creeps apace
O’er all the bright blue sky along
And hides the sun’s gold face.
That is the hour when Mother dear
Says, “Come, sweetheart,” to me,
“And of the earth’s great heroes hear
While sitting on my knee.”
Upon her arm I rest my hand
And wondrous stories hear,
Until it’s time to go to bed,
Tucked in by Mother dear.