Oh, artist, if I should ask you To paint a picture for me Of a pair of beautiful hands, What, then, would your picture be? Two hands of ivory whiteness As soft as a baby's lips, With nails like glistening seed-pearls On velvety finger-tips? Tapering, slender and shapely, Worthy of jewelled bands; Palms like the petals of rosebuds -- Are these your beautiful hands? To me, my memory pictures A vision softened by tears; Hands not youthful and dainty But weary and worn with years. Hands that are rough from toiling, Calloused, and blemished and scarred, From sewing, washing and sweeping, -- Work that was long and hard. Yet with fingers tender and loving, Banishing care and fears, -- Smoothing pain from an aching head -- Wiping away our tears. Though your hands of fragile beauty Be praised by the world of art, Mother's hands are the beautiful ones I always keep in my heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SLEEP by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH JOHANNES AGRICOLA IN MEDITATION by ROBERT BROWNING UP IN THE MORNING EARLY by ROBERT BURNS SONNET TO LAKE LEMAN by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE DONKEY by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON TO A YOUNG ASS; ITS MOTHER BEING TETHERED NEAR IT by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE CHAMBER MUSIC: 1 by JAMES JOYCE |