Mother

Far better than minerals gotten Out of the depths of the earth, Or jewels of regal splendor And ostentatious birth Is the singular role of a mother; Indeed, there isn't another Of distinctly nobler worth. She scatters the seeds of gladness With those of pain and sorrow, In the fields of her fertile existence For tender shoots of tomorrow; There's nothing she wouldn't dare To justify her care; She'd even beg or borrow. She gathers a bounteous harvest -- An outcome of courage and skill, Through seasons of trials and errors That never could smother her will; A beacon in the overall plan, She illumines the pathway of man -- A duty she's glad to fulfill.