more Photos
from the ACOA Mother's Day Gallery
I Love You Roses
Flowers have their own language of love, but in this case it's the pots that
speak the message most clearly. Featuring the three words she enjoys hearing: "I
love you." Our three 4 3/4" square earthenware pots are planted with
mini pink roses—symbolizing gratitude, joy and thanks. The pots are chocolate
on the outside, pink on the inside. Exclusively from RedEnvelope.
The numbers on this charming desk clock are represented by 12 herbs, all native to America: basil, parsley, chives, mint and 8 more. The rich, cherry-stained wood case complements any décor.
More Herbal Gifts
| Caryn.com | Mother's Day |
Mother's Day Poems
|
There Was a Child Went Forth
The mother at home, quietly placing the dishes on the supper-table;
The mother with mild words clean her cap and gown, a wholesome odor falling
off her person and clothes as she walks by;
The father, strong, self-sufficient, manly, mean, anger’d, unjust;
The blow, the quick loud word, the tight bargain, the crafty lure,
The family usages, the language, the company, the furniture the yearning and
swelling heart,
Affection that will not be gainsay’d the sense of what is real the thought
if, after all, it should prove unreal,
The doubts of day-time and the doubts of night-time the curious whether and
how,
Whether that which appears so is so, or is it all flashes and specks?
Men and women crowding fast in the streets if they are not flashes and specks,
what are they?
The streets themselves, and the façades of houses, and goods in the
windows,
Vehicles, teams, the heavy-plank’d wharves the huge crossing at the ferries,
The village on the highland, seen from afar at sunset the river between,
Shadows, aureola and mist, the light falling on roofs and gables of white or
brown, three miles off,
The schooner near by, sleepily dropping down the tide the little boat slack-tow’d
astern,
The hurrying tumbling waves, quick-broken crests, slapping,
The strata of color’d clouds, the long bar of maroon-tint, away solitary
by itself the spread of purity it lies motionless in,
The horizon’s edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance of salt marsh
and shore mud;
These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes,
and will always go forth every day.
- Walt Whitman
To My Mother
Because I feel that in the heavens above
The angels, whispering one to another,
Can find among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of "Mother,"
Therefore by that dear name I have long called you,
You who are more than mother unto me,
And filled my heart of hearts, where death installed you,
In setting my Virginia's spirit free.
My mother -- my own mother, who died early,
Was but the mother of myself; but you
Are the mother to the one I loved so dearly,
And thus are dearer than the mother I knew
But that infinity with which my wife
Was dearer to my soul that its soul-life.
- Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)
Richer Than Gold
You may have tangible wealth untold;
Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.
Richer than I you can never be --
I had a mother who read to me.
-- Strickland Gillilan (1869-1954)
Mother's Day poem by Howard Johnson
- "M" is for the million things she gave me,
- "O" means only that she's growing old,
- "T" is for the tears she shed to save me,
- "H" is for her heart of purest gold;
- "E" is for her eyes, with love-light shining,
- "R" means right, and right she'll always be,
Put them all together, they spell "MOTHER,"
A word that means the world to me. (c. 1915)
