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Poem by Katharine Tynan
The Mother of Three
Oh, to have a little farm, A little hearth so warm and bright, And three little boys all safe from harm In from the winter night! A little house with white-washed wall, And thatched like any golden rick, And the little boys within my call, And they running so quick. A garden and an apple tree, And me so busy all the day, And the little boys at home with me, Merry out at their play. There was a woman I've heard tell, Whose three fine sons were killed. For sure 'Tis good to have them little and well And just beyond your door. This while back there is something wrong -- It may be that I miss the boys Who filled the house the whole day long With happy laughter and noise! And often when I sit my lone The sadness comes and lies on me For the poor soul that has no son. And me having the three! And it's oh, to have the little farm Under the golden thatch so bright, And the little boys safe home from harm Shut in with me at night!
Katharine Tynan's other poems:
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