I came across this poem while gathering material for a Sunday morning message. It’s found in several online sites, unfortunately I have found none that list who wrote it. It’s message is one that we all need to reflect on as we consider what it means to love.
Who Loved Her Best?
A little boy with ruffled head,
Leaned in the doorway worn and gray,
I love you, Mother, he kindly said,
Then turned and ran aside to play
His mother, tired with labors long,
Continued working till at last,
His sister with a smile and song,
Slipped gently in and wondered past.
“I love you, Mother,” she whispered low,
Then turned aside to leave her there,
With eyes that could not see her woe,
And a heart that could not feel her care.
Then last of all there came that way,
The older brother, kind and true,
He had no noble words of love to say
No noble speech of praise to do.
But quickly took his mother’s broom,
So she might sit and rest awhile,
And cleaned and tidied up the room,
And rocked the baby with a smile.
Though not a word of love was said,
How do you think their mother guessed,
That night when all were safe in bed,
The one who really loved her best?