{"id":9611,"date":"2023-08-12T01:00:00","date_gmt":"2023-08-12T05:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newspaperhistory.com\/?p=9611"},"modified":"2023-08-12T01:00:00","modified_gmt":"2023-08-12T05:00:00","slug":"my-mother","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/my-mother\/","title":{"rendered":"My Mother"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p><em>From the <a href=\"https:\/\/chroniclingamerica.loc.gov\/lccn\/sn91064011\/1915-08-12\/ed-1\/seq-8\/\">Newark Evening Star, August 12, 1915<\/a>. By Margaret Howard.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n\n<p>Great poets have sung in high praises<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of mothers with silvery locks,<br\/>Of mothers who sat in the corner,<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;With mending or darning the socks.<br\/>They\u2019ve sung of the old, wrinkled faces,<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of hands that were toilworn and old;<br\/>They\u2019ve sung of the blessed old mothers<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Now gone to the heavenly fold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n<p>But I sing of the glorious mother<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Whose hair is still wavy and brown,<br\/>With hardly a glint of the silver<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In the braids of her hallowing crown;<br\/>The mother who still loves a party,<br\/>Who dances as well as her girls,<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And who proudly keeps step to the music<br\/>When the bright suffrage banner unfurls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n<p>The mother who sat in the corner<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Was all well enough in her day,<br\/>But old Father Time marches onward,<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And now other notions hold sway.<br\/>The mother who sat in the corner<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Had none of the helps we have now;<br\/>She had to do all her own canning<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And spin, weave and milk her own cow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n<p>It\u2019s true she did not love club meetings<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In the days of the long, long ago;<br\/>It\u2019s also quite true she\u2019d no auto<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And never saw one picture show.<br\/>She didn\u2019t clean house with a vacuum,<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She didn\u2019t have electric lights.<br\/>(For all they had then was the candle<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And tallow dips for the dark nights).<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n<p>So while poets dwell on the praises<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of the mothers of days now gone by,<br\/>Let me sing of the present-day mother,<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;With the sparkle of youth in her eye.<br\/>Let me sing of the well-informed mother,<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Who keeps young with her girls and her boys;<br\/>Who understands all of their sorrows<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And gladly shares all of their joys.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n<p>Let me sing of the up-to-date mother,<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Who follows the ball games and sports,<br\/>Who not only reads of the fashions,<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But the war news and market reports;<br\/>Who loves to romp with her grand-kiddies\u2014<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Oh, loud should her praises be sung!<br\/>The best chum of all the long ages\u2014<br\/>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;My mother, so splendidly young!<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>From the Newark Evening Star, August 12, 1915. By Margaret Howard. Great poets have sung in high praises&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of mothers with silvery locks,Of mothers who sat in the corner,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;With mending or darning the socks.They\u2019ve sung of the old, wrinkled faces,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of hands that were toilworn and old;They\u2019ve sung of the blessed old mothers&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Now gone to the heavenly [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[35,3],"tags":[227],"class_list":["post-9611","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-newark-evening-star","category-newspapers","tag-margaret-howard"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9611","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9611"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9611\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9611"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9611"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9611"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}