Classic Poem

I search among the plain and lovely words
To find what the one word " Mother " means. As well
Try to define the tangled song of birds,
The echo in the hills of one clear bell —
One cannot snare the wind — or catch the wings
Of shadows flying low across the wheat.
Ah — who can prison simple, natural things
That make the long days beautiful and sweet?

" Mother " — a word that holds the tender spell
Of all the dear, essential things of earth:
A home, clean sunlit rooms, and the good smell
Of bread, a table spread, a glowing hearth,
And love beyond the dream of anyone —
I search for words for her — and there are none.

I search among the plain and lovely words
To find what the one word " Mother " means. As well
Try to define the tangled song of birds,
The echo in the hills of one clear bell —
One cannot snare the wind — or catch the wings
Of shadows flying low across the wheat.
Ah — who can prison simple, natural things
That make the long days beautiful and sweet?

" Mother " — a word that holds the tender spell
Of all the dear, essential things of earth:
A home, clean sunlit rooms, and the good smell
Of bread, a table spread, a glowing hearth,
And love beyond the dream of anyone —
I search for words for her — and there are none.