Golden, as the sun rising in the east,
Another day to be filled with festive feast
Year added unto year, it behoveth me to say,
Like Venus in her orb and triumphal array
Enhancing to kith and kindred all
Every service and every loving call.
Did ere such kindness rest?
Were any mother ‘ere so blest?
As thine, and thou, whose blessed memory
Ringeth out o’er years gone by,
Delighting all who in her shadow rest
So that she shall be forever blest.