Remember Mother

Have you always worn a red rose
On your coat or on your dress?
If you have, then you are lucky,
Just how lucky you can’t guess.

For you’ll never know until she’s gone
Just how much she meant to you.
You will never find a love
So unquestioningly true.

Don’t wait until a white rose
You must wear on Mother’s Day.
Show her your appreciation
While on earth God lets her stay.

May 14, 1939



I planted dry, brown, ugly bulbs
In earth dark, moist, and bare;
The chilling wind of Autumn sang
Its death-song of despair.

“Poor bulbs,” I thought and said a prayer,
“They have no chance, I fear,”
And Winter came and lingered long;
Then skies began to clear.

And with the warm spring sun there came
Long spears of brightest green
And then such proud and gorgeous blooms
They might have graced a queen.

Who, now, can watch this miracle
Of sun and rain and sod,
And still in utter truth declare,
“I don’t believe in God”?

August 2, 1942

Breath of Spring

Of what consists the breath of spring?
Of red of breast and gray of wing
And the first notes that the robins sing;
Of faint green tracery of leaves,
Of pale moonlight while the hoot owl grieves,
And the spell that rippling water weaves;
Of scent of roses in the air
And daffodils so debonair,
Of sun-drenched beauty everywhere;
Cold dew where morning glories cling,
The loveliness a shower can bring–
Of such consists the breath of spring.

March 10, 1940