Mother's Lucid Alturuism
Whom travails a child is a mother,
Beholds such affection that do ne'er wither,
Has a soothing palp alike the slither,
Bunch of thew blossoms she gather,
Yet capricious as the weather,
Peeves livid like a panther,
Still benevolence towards all whether,
Staw her indulgence in sheather,
She is no customary ither,
Nor unpretentious hombre not either,
Dame cradles family hefty together,
Ne'er dwindle eschew unsue untogether,
Ignites lucid altruism alike Aether,
Flimsy humane like a feather,
Bear's sweetness of an anther,
Prime her no nil other