Theresa Helburn

(1887-1959 / United States)

Mother - Poem by Theresa Helburn

I have praised many loved ones in my song,
   And yet I stand
Before her shrine, to whom all things belong,
   With empty hand.

Perhaps the ripening future holds a time
   For things unsaid;
Not now; men do not celebrate in rhyme
   Their daily bread.


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Read poems about / on: future, song, time, mother



Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 4, 2003



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