To My Mother
Gentlest of critics, does your memory hold (I know it does) a record of the days When I, a schoolboy, earned your generous praise For halting verse and stories crudely told? Over these childish scrawls the years have rolled, They might not know the world's unfriendly gaze; But still your smile shines down familiar ways, Touches my words and turns their dross to gold. More dear to-day than in that vanished time Comes your nigh praise to make me proud and strong. In my poor notes you hear Love's splendid chime, So unto you does this, my work belong. Take, then, a little gift of fragile rhyme: Your heart will change it to authentic song.
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"Gentlest of critics, does your memory hold..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Alfred Joyce Kilmer (Joyce) delivers a powerful performance in "To My Mother"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...