God has endowed a precious gift to us,
It's the love of a mother which is so surplus ;
Even when the whole world becomes venomous,
She is the one who remain scrupulous. ...
Nay, dear one, ask me not to leave thee yet.
Let me a little longer hold thy hand.
Too soon it is to bid me to forget
The joys I was so late to understand.
The future holds but a blank face for me,
The past is all confused with tears and grey,
But the sweet present, while thy smiles I see,
Is perfect sunlight, an unclouded day.
... Read complete poem