HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY to those whose children Are those for whom their love must be their womb, Pleased to labor in a common garden Pruning plants they would themselves have sown. Yes, praise to those whose love is notwithstanding, Mothers who could not be mothers, yet Of charity and need came to the calling, Taking from the world what joy they would. How well the will can ride an errant wind! Each fate is but the field of our endeavor. Reason may resist our heartfelt ends 'Ere we share our passions with another. So may we all, through sacrifice and love, Daily do what will our spirits prove, Asking only for what we might give, Yielding not our labors but our lives.