Theresa Helburn

(1887-1959 / United States)


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.

Comments about Mother by Theresa Helburn

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

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

Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 4, 2003