Would that I, like many others
Friends, whose faces I now see,
Who have congregated here
To honour their Mothers memory.
Pin a soft pink living posey
On my bosom, with a song,
Yet, instead, I wear a white one
For you know my Mothers gone.
Those that have a Mother living
Still, could hardly know,
What that loss could mean to them
Only experience teaches so.
I can only say to them, who has
A Mother with them today,
Love her, bless her, for she might
Like my dear Mother, go away.
Plant sweet flowers by her pathway
For it seems the best you know,
Then to tend a sacred earth mound
Where the pure white flowers grow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem