Author Cecil Arthur Spring-Rice It is not for the gifts she gave, Nor all she has in store, The mother of the free and brave, I'll love her more and more. Not for the lands she has in fee, Nor gold in millions piled; The mother of her sons is she, And I, my mother's child. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments