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Poem
May 30, 1877
The Indiana State Sentinel
Indianapolis, Marion County, Indiana
What is this article about?
A sentimental poem reflecting on the beauty and tireless toil of the speaker's mother's hands through childhood memories, their aging, impending death, and hopeful reunion in the afterlife with palms of victory.
Clipping
OCR Quality
88%
Good
Full Text
My Mother's Hands
Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
They're neither white nor small;
And you, I know, would scarcely think
That they are fair at all.
I've looked on hands whose form and hue
A sculptor's dream might be;
Yet are those aged, wrinkled hands
Most beautiful to me.
Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
Though heart were weary and sad,
Those patient hands kept toiling on
That the children might be glad.
I always weep, as looking back
To childhood's distant day,
I think how those hands rested not
When mine were at their play.
Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
They're growing feeble now,
For time and pain have left their mark
On hands, and heart and brow.
Alas! alas! the nearing time,
And the sad, sad day to me,
When 'neath the daisies, out of sight
These hands will folded be.
But oh, beyond this shadow land,
Where all is bright and fair.
I know full well these dear old hands
Will palms of victory bear:
Where crystal streams through endless years
Flow over golden sands,
And where the old grow young again,
I'll clasp my mother's hands.
Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
They're neither white nor small;
And you, I know, would scarcely think
That they are fair at all.
I've looked on hands whose form and hue
A sculptor's dream might be;
Yet are those aged, wrinkled hands
Most beautiful to me.
Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
Though heart were weary and sad,
Those patient hands kept toiling on
That the children might be glad.
I always weep, as looking back
To childhood's distant day,
I think how those hands rested not
When mine were at their play.
Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
They're growing feeble now,
For time and pain have left their mark
On hands, and heart and brow.
Alas! alas! the nearing time,
And the sad, sad day to me,
When 'neath the daisies, out of sight
These hands will folded be.
But oh, beyond this shadow land,
Where all is bright and fair.
I know full well these dear old hands
Will palms of victory bear:
Where crystal streams through endless years
Flow over golden sands,
And where the old grow young again,
I'll clasp my mother's hands.
What sub-type of article is it?
Ode
What themes does it cover?
Death Mourning
Religious Faith
Moral Virtue
What keywords are associated?
Mother's Hands
Beauty
Toil
Childhood
Aging
Afterlife
Victory Palms
Poem Details
Title
My Mother's Hands
Subject
Tribute To Mother's Hands
Key Lines
Such Beautiful, Beautiful Hands!
They're Neither White Nor Small;
And You, I Know, Would Scarcely Think
That They Are Fair At All.
Those Patient Hands Kept Toiling On
That The Children Might Be Glad.
Alas! Alas! The Nearing Time,
And The Sad, Sad Day To Me,
When 'Neath The Daisies, Out Of Sight
These Hands Will Folded Be.
But Oh, Beyond This Shadow Land,
Where All Is Bright And Fair.
I Know Full Well These Dear Old Hands
Will Palms Of Victory Bear:
I'll Clasp My Mother's Hands.