This week’s theme was inspired by a friend who posted a meme about motherhood on Facebook.
It is a tribute to my mother, who has been tremendously supportive of me all my life and never more so than since we lost Nicola, and to Nicola’s mum, who helped to make our relationship possible, and to the newest mum in my family, Deyna. This one’s for you, ladies, and for all my other friends who are mothers!
Ann Taylor speaks of “My Mother”, Christina Rossetti’s “Sonnets Are Full of Love” for her mother, and Rudyard Kipling cries out for the forgiveness and love of “Mother O’ Mine”.
Poem 145. My Mother
And can I ever cease to be
Ann Taylor (1782—1866)
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,
My Mother?
Who sat and watched my infant head
When sleeping on my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.
When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My Mother.
Who taught my infant lips to pray
And love God’s holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?
My Mother.
And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,
My Mother?
Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear,
And if God please my life to spare
I hope I shall reward thy care,
My Mother.
When thou art feeble, old and grey,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
My Mother.
This seems like the quintessential tribute to a mother—a woman who devotes her life to her child, fears for them, weeps for them and teaches them so that the child returns their love and when they grow to be an adult, they willingly take over the burden of love and care bestowed on them and bring it back to their parent.
Poem 146. Sonnets Are Full of Love
And she my loadstar while I go and come
Christina Rossetti (1830—1894)
Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome
Has many sonnets: so here now shall be
One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me
To her whose heart is my heart’s quiet home,
To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee
I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;
Whose service is my special dignity,
And she my loadstar while I go and come
And so because you love me, and because
I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath
Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honoured name:
In you not fourscore years can dim the flame
Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws
Of time and change and mortal life and death.
This is Christina Rossetti’s contribution to mother love, fourteen lines that perfectly encompass the sentiment one feels towards a mother who so often sacrifices her own wishes and desires to satisfy those of her offspring. Rossetti describes the mutual love between her and her mother so beautifully—I love the words “and so because you love me, and because I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath of rhymes wherewith to crown your honoured name”.
Poem 147. Mother O’ Mine
I know whose love would follow me still,
Rudyard Kipling (1865—1936)
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
I know whose love would follow me still,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
If I were drowned in the deepest sea,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
I know whose tears would come down to me,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
If I were damned of body and soul,
I know whose prayers would make me whole,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
Even at our worst, we hope for the forgiveness and love of our mothers, and Kipling’s poem puts this very bluntly—a mother’s love transcends one’s own transgressions, forgiving if not forgetting so that even in our darkest hours there should still be one person that loves us, weeps for us and prays for us.