Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you,
Many a Summer the grass has grown green,
Blossomed and faded, our faces between;
Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain,
Long I to-night for your presence again.
—Elizabeth Akers Allen.
A mother is a mother still,
The holiest thing alive.
—Coleridge.
There is none,
In all this cold and hollow world, no fount
Of deep, strong, deathless love, save that within
A mother's heart.
—Mrs. Hemans.
And all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to tears.
—Shakespeare.