True Loveliness

My mother’s face is wrinkled now,

And not so soft and fair,

And silvery threads are shinning where

There once was jet black hair;

But when I see the love light shine

From her dimming eyes,

It seems but a reflection from

The gates of paradise.

Her hands, once soft and lovely,

Are thin and aged now;

But oh, how many, many times

They’ve soothed some aching brow.

They might not seem so lovely if

Their shape alone you see,

But oh, I know their deeds of love —-

They’re beautiful to me.

Her steps are feeble, faltering,

That once were firm and light.

How many steps her feet have made

By day as well as night!

She may seem old to others —- not

So beautiful to see;

But she’ll always be the loveliest

Of all on earth to me.

Anonymous