In many countries around the world, Mother’s Day is in May.

Below is a quaint poem I found called “My Mother”. It was written by Ann Taylor (1783 –1866). She’s the sister of Jane Taylor, the author of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. Ann and Jane published books of rhymes and poems together.

The illustrations below were done by Walter Crane. Here’s what Crane wrote about it in 1910:

“My Mother” is mid-Victorian-just after crinolines had gone out-but mothers are always in fashion, bless them…

Crinolines are so old-fashioned that many of us in the 21st century are no longer familiar with the word! Crinolines were hoop petticoats worn under skirts to give them a wide round shape. They were often made out of steel to support and widen the look of the skirt. Ladies, let’s all be glad we’re not too familiar with this word!

So here’s the poem with Cranes sweet illustrations…

My Mother

Who fed me from her gentle breast,
And hush’d me in her arms to rest,
And on my cheek sweet kisses prest?
My Mother.

When sleep forsook my open eye,
Who was it sung sweet hushaby,
And rock’d me that I should not cry?
My Mother.

Who sat and watched my infant head,
When sleeping in my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My Mother.

Who dress’d my doll in clothes so gay,
And taught me pretty how to play.
And minded all I had to say?
My Mother.

Who taught my infant lips to pray,
And love God’s holy book and day.
And walk in Wisdom’s pleasant way?
My Mother.

And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who was so very kind to me?
My Mother

Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear;
And if God please my life to spare,
I hope I shall reward thy care,
My Mother.

Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
My Mother.

When thou art feeble, old, and gray,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away.
My Mother.

And when I see thee hang thy head,
‘Twill be my turn to watch thy bed.
And tears of sweet affection shed,
My Mother.

For God, who lives above the skies,
Would look with vengeance in His eyes,
If I should ever dare despise
My Mother.

[Note from Mama Lisa: Taylor later softened the last verse, changing it to the following.]

For could our Father in the skies
Look down with pleased or loving eyes,
If ever I could dare despise
My Mother.

UPDATE: Part of this poem is sung in Cameroon, Africa as a children’s song.

P.S. Here are some other posts about Mother’s Day, including other poems: