Instead of silken china scarf,
Petal-soft touch of tiny arms.
Instead of gold and silver bands,
The precious clasp of baby hands.
Instead of roses’ musky scent,
The milky breath of sweet infant.
Instead of diamonds on my breast,
Sparkling tears adorn my chest.
Instead of empty marble halls,
The sound of laughter and little footfalls.
Instead of a priceless masterpiece,
Small hands create a bright motif.
Instead of rustling satin gown,
Daisy chains and a clover crown.
Instead of soothing symphonies,
The lisp of childish sympathies.
And would I trade my clover crown,
For diamonds and a satin gown?
No—for all the world, I never would
Renounce the joys of motherhood.