It seems the angels were singing a song,
And their melody pleased God’s ears;
Singing of to whom such love belong,
They could subdue all pain and fears.
He asked them about who became
Possessed of a kind of love so grand.
He was told of the sweetest mortal name
That ever satisfied the hearts of man.
The dear name “Mother” God then heard,
It giving sound to the throb of His heart,
As if such a title was that preferred,
And such a figure so honored in classic art.
My own dear mother was second to none,
And enjoys her deserved Elysian rest.
Thus since down from heaven came the Son,
Her role and function is eternally blessed.
My own dear mother was second to none... A commonly shared thought, so true, so universal! ! ! ... it reminds me a line from a poem: mother is a garden that sees Spring as the only ruling season! ... though it's a complete poem with alternate-rhyme, but you could have composed it as a sonnet only by a little effort...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely tribute to one who is right deserving. Finely set. 10