Mother-Love

Think not of love as of a debt—Due or in May or in December!Nay, rather, for a time, forget;Life always helps us to remember!

A child whom harmless toys beguileTo loiter for a little while,Put heart into your play, and then,When you are tired—come home again!

Fair, yet how fragile, pleasure's rose!—How vain the toil to make it stronger!It blooms—it withers,—but love knowsA sweeter blossom that lives longer!