Too often they are taken for granted as inferior, in this male dominated world. Every mother, every daughter, is a unique gift from G-d.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox (November 5, 1850–October 30, 1919).
American Poet. (I see a good song in this, if I could remember how to read music).
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For this brave old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.
No question is ever settled
Until it is settled right.
Settle the Question Right.
Here, on this side of the grave,
Here, should we labor and love.
Here and Now
So many gods, so many creeds;
So many paths that wind and wind,
While just the art of being kind
Is all the sad world needs.
The World's Need
You never can tell when you do an act
Just what the result will be;
But with every deed you are sowing a seed,
Though the harvest you may not see.
Each kindly act is an acorn dropped
In God's productive soil;
You may not know, yet the tree shall grow
And shelter the brows that toil.
You never can tell what your thoughts will do
In bringing you hate or love;
For thoughts are things, and their airy wings
Are swifter than carrier doves.
They follow the law of the universe—
Each thing must create its kind;
And they speed o'er the track to bring you back
Whatever went out from your mind.