Beautiful mother is busy all day, <br />So busy she neither can sing nor say; <br />But lovely thoughts, in a ceaseless flow, <br />Through her eyes, and her ears, and her bosom go- <br />Motion, sight, and sound, and scent, <br />Weaving a royal, rich content. <br /> <br />When night is come, and her children sleep, <br />Beautiful mother her watch doth keep; <br />With glowing stars in her dusky hair <br />Down she sits to her music rare; <br />And her instrument that never fails, <br />Is the hearts and the throats of her nightingales.<br /><br />George MacDonald<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mother-nature-55/
