Here’s one of my favorite poems for mothers. It’s here in tribute to all mothers who feel they can’t do enough —
As a child, I first saw the last stanza as a sampler. Although I didn’t appreciate its significance then, I do now. And have a better appreciation why my mother loved it. 
Originally published in The Ladies Home Journal in 1958.
Song for a Fifth Child
[also known as Babies Don’t Keep]
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren’t his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.
Keep knitting to your heart’s delight — or someone else’s,
Ina
Source of poem: http://organicallyinclined.org/2010/07/26/babies-dont-keepthe-poem-has-an-author/
