Edward Silvera (Edward S. Silvera), "Mother" (1931)
Mother of the tender arms
Where helpless once I lay,
Mother of the soft brown arms
I think of you today.
Mother of the anxious eyes
The eyes that watch and share
Mother of the mellowing years
There's twilight in your hair.
Mother of the seeded brood
The slowly wrinkling brow,
Mother of the hands that toil,
I chant your glory now.
Mother of my every mood,
I pray that you might see
A portion of your dream of life
Transfigured true -- in me.
Published in The Crisis, June 1931
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- Edward S. Silvera (1906-1937): Author Page Amardeep Singh