To Mother

[Esaias]

There was a place in childhood
That I remember well,
And there a voice of sweetest tone
Bright fairy tales did tell,
And gentle words and fond embrace
Were given, with joy, to me,
When I was in that happy place
Upon my mother’s knee.

When fairy tales were ended,
“Good night,” she softly said,
And kissed and laid me down to sleep
Within my tiny bed;
And Holy words she taught me there –
Methinks I yet can see,
Her angel eyes, as close I knelt
Beside my mother’s knee.

In the sickness of my childhood,
The perils of my prime,
The sorrows of my riper years,
The cares of every time…
When doubt and danger weighed me down –
Then pleading, all for me,
It was a fervent prayer to Heaven
That bent my mother’s knee.

And can I this remember,
And e’er forget to prove
The glow of holy gratitude –
The fullness of my love?
When thou art feeble, mother,
Come rest thy arm on me.
And let thy cherished child
Support the aged mother’s knee.

Samuel Lover (19th cent. Irish poet)

[FlamingZword]

Originally Posted by Esaias

There was a place in childhood
That I remember well,
And there a voice of sweetest tone
Bright fairy tales did tell,
And gentle words and fond embrace
Were given, with joy, to me,
When I was in that happy place
Upon my mother’s knee.

When fairy tales were ended,
“Good night,” she softly said,
And kissed and laid me down to sleep
Within my tiny bed;
And Holy words she taught me there –
Methinks I yet can see,
Her angel eyes, as close I knelt
Beside my mother’s knee.

In the sickness of my childhood,
The perils of my prime,
The sorrows of my riper years,
The cares of every time…
When doubt and danger weighed me down –
Then pleading, all for me,
It was a fervent prayer to Heaven
That bent my mother’s knee.

And can I this remember,
And e’er forget to prove
The glow of holy gratitude –
The fullness of my love?
When thou art feeble, mother,
Come rest thy arm on me.
And let thy cherished child
Support the aged mother’s knee.

Samuel Lover (19th cent. Irish poet)

Nice, but not everyone of us had the mother with a voice of the sweetest tone, nor who told us fairy tales, nod did embrace us with gentle words nor none of the rest of the stuff.

Maybe not having loving parents is the reason my personality is so messed up.

[madras]

Originally Posted by FlamingZword

Nice, but not everyone of us had the mother with a voice of the sweetest tone, nor who told us fairy tales, nod did embrace us with gentle words nor none of the rest of the stuff.

Maybe not having loving parents is the reason my personality is so messed up.

I can relate. My mother got pregnant at a young age. She always resented me. She showed nothing but love for her 2 children that followed. We are currently on the outs, mother and I. I told her not to call or message me again. Though I love her dearly, I can not put any more effort into a real relationship with her. I can't deal with the toxicity.

[FlamingZword]

Originally Posted by madras

I can relate. My mother got pregnant at a young age. She always resented me. She showed nothing but love for her 2 children that followed. We are currently on the outs, mother and I. I told her not to call or message me again. Though I love her dearly, I can not put any more effort into a real relationship with her. I can't deal with the toxicity.

I understand, but after many years I sort of made peace with my mother.

we do not have a great relationship and probably never will, but I am now a grown person and have become a Christian (Which she highly resented) so with the help of the Lord, I now visit her and try to help her out whenever I can, after all she still is my mother.

So I hope that eventually you and your mother will reach a civil kind of relationship.

[MawMaw]

Originally Posted by Esaias

There was a place in childhood
That I remember well,
And there a voice of sweetest tone
Bright fairy tales did tell,
And gentle words and fond embrace
Were given, with joy, to me,
When I was in that happy place
Upon my mother’s knee.

When fairy tales were ended,
“Good night,” she softly said,
And kissed and laid me down to sleep
Within my tiny bed;
And Holy words she taught me there –
Methinks I yet can see,
Her angel eyes, as close I knelt
Beside my mother’s knee.

In the sickness of my childhood,
The perils of my prime,
The sorrows of my riper years,
The cares of every time…
When doubt and danger weighed me down –
Then pleading, all for me,
It was a fervent prayer to Heaven
That bent my mother’s knee.

And can I this remember,
And e’er forget to prove
The glow of holy gratitude –
The fullness of my love?
When thou art feeble, mother,
Come rest thy arm on me.
And let thy cherished child
Support the aged mother’s knee.

Samuel Lover (19th cent. Irish poet)

That was so beautiful! Thank you for sharing!
I sure had a precious Mama and I wish I could
still talk with her and give her a big hug.
My precious angel went to be with her Jesus 30
years ago this November. I miss her terribly.