I think God took the fragrance of a flower,
A pure white flower, which blooms not for world praise
But which makes sweet and beautiful some bower;
The compassion of the dew, which gently lays
Reviving freshness on the fainting earth,
And gives to all the tired things new birth;
The steadfastness and radiance of stars
Which life the soul above confining bars;
The gladness of fair dawns;
the sunset's peace;
Contentment which from trivial rounds asks no release;
The life which finds its greatest joy
in deeds of love for others. . .
I think God took these precious things
and made of them. . . mothers.
- Author unknown