母親節既詩(英文 急!!!thx)

DAY for MOTHERS
by Joe White

A Day was set aside
To make Mothers our National Pride.
A Day to remind them of
How much we treasure their love.

For all the years she gave,
Working like a maid,
Seeing to our every need,
Making our lives a cherished one, indeed.

We may have never taken the time
To thank her for being the mothering kind,
Sharing the way we feel within
About her being a mother and a friend.

We know we can never show
Our love in a way that would glow,
But it does deep down inside,
Even without this Day, we regard with pride.

I thank God for you,
For giving me a mother to see me through.
To be blessed with someone as true as she
Is one gift I'm so glad belongs to me.

The joy of having a mother like you
Is a feeling I've gotten use to.
I can't imagine you, being any other way,
Except as my mother, one who deserves her Day.




Joe White was born and raised in New Orleans but presently lives in Los Angeles. This poem is to honor all mothers on their special day.

Mommy, Please Don't Worry

Mommy, please don't worry 'cause
I'm doing really well,
Even though I miss you on
This Happy Mother's Day!
Wishing you were with me 'cause
In that case I could tell
You all the things that happened to me
While you were away.

I love you even though you can't
Be with me just for now.
And I know you love me, too,
'Cause I'm your little child.

And I'm sure that you will come
To me someday, somehow,
And I will see you look at me
And know that you have smiled.



I Know We Sometimes Argue

I know we sometimes argue, and
I sometimes blow my lid.
But I still love you very much:
I'm only just a kid.

Sometimes I need to push against
The fences you erect,
Even though I know they're there
To shelter and protect.
I know you want the best for me
And to keep me from all harm.
I just want you to know I couldn't
Have a better mom.



Mothers Are the Gardeners

Mothers are the gardeners
Of wind-blown wild flowers.
They water them with happy tears,
Happy with them many years,
Even as the hours
Ring with sweet, sad melodies
Sighing through their bowers.



Mothers Rarely Get What They Deserve

Mothers rarely get what they deserve:
On them is dumped the dirt of our dreams.
Their joys must be ours, as they serve
Hard time, which only our love redeems.
Each day your love and faith my days renew;
Rejoice, then, on this day reserved for you.