To My Mother

To My Mother

by Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)

Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of “Mother,”
Therefore by that dear name I long have called you—
You who are more than mother unto me,
And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you,
In setting my Virginia’s spirit free.
My mother—my own mother, who died early,
Was but the mother of myself; but you
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,
And thus are dearer than the mother I knew
By that infinity with which my wife
Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.    

This poem is presented in honor of Mother's Day which will occur in a few weeks. You can find a number of beautiful handcrafted jewelry pieces at Beadshaper which would make a great gift for your mother or the mother of your children.  

Song

Song
by John Donne (1572 - 1631)        

Go and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the devil's foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids' singing,
Or to keep off envy's stinging,
And find
What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.

If thou be'st born to strange sights,
Things invisible go see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till Age snow white hairs on thee;
Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me
All strange wonders that befell thee,
And swear
No where
Lives a woman true and fair.  

If thou find'st one, let me know;
Such a pilgrimage were sweet,
Yet do not; I would not go,
Though at next door we might meet.
Though she were true when you met her, 
And last till you write your letter
Yet she
Will be
False, ere I come, to two or three.

The bracelet pictured above is in Rose's collection of silver Viking Knit bracelets offered at the Studio Seven Art Gallery in Pleasanton, California. See Beadshaper at Studio Seven for details.