Family is the heartbeat of our lives, shaping who we are in countless ways.
Through poetry, we can explore the intricate emotions and stories that bind us together.
These are 10 verses that capture the laughter, tears, and unforgettable moments that define our relationships.
Let’s jump right in!
My favorite poem about family
#1 “The Stick-Together Families” by Edgar A. Guest
The stick-together families are happier by far
Than the brothers and the sisters who take separate
highways are.
The gladdest people living are the wholesome
folks who make
A circle at the fireside that no power but death
can break.
And the finest of conventions ever held beneath
the sun
Are the little family gatherings when the busy
day is done.
There are rich folk, there are poor folk, who
imagine they are wise,
And they’re very quick to shatter all the little
family ties.
Each goes searching after pleasure in his own
selected way,
Each with strangers likes to wander, and with
strangers likes to play.
But it’s bitterness they harvest, and it’s empty
joy they find,
For the children that are wisest are the stick
together kind.
There are some who seem to fancy that for
gladness they must roam,
That for smiles that are the brightest they must
wander far from home.
That the strange friend is the true friend, and
they travel far astray
And they waste their lives in striving for a joy
that’s far away,
But the gladdest sort of people, when the busy
day is done,
Are the brothers and the sisters who together
share their fun.
It’s the stick-together family that wins the joys
of earth ,
That hears the sweetest music and that finds the
finest mirth;
It’s the old home roof that shelters all the charm
that life can give;
There you find the gladdest play-ground, there
the happiest spot to live.
And, O weary, wandering brother, if contentment
you would win,
Come you back unto the fireside and be comrade
with your kin.
This poem paints a vivid picture of the joy and warmth that comes from being together, reminding us that happiness often lies in those simple moments shared with loved ones.
Plus, it also shows us the importance of giving more value to your loved ones instead of material things found outside one’s home.
9 more poems about family
#2 “Mother o’ Mine” by Rudyard Kipling
If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
I know whose love would follow me still,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
If I were drowned in the deepest sea,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
I know whose tears would come down to me,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
If I were damned of body and soul,
I know whose prayers would make me whole,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
#3 “Home, Sweet Home” by John Howard Payne
From “Clari, the Maid of Milan”
Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there ’s no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne’er met with elsewhere.
Home, Home, sweet, sweet Home!
There ’s no place like Home! there ’s no place like Home!
An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain:
O, give me my lowly thatched cottage again!
The birds singing gayly, that came at my call;—
Give me them,—and the peace of mind, dearer than all!
Home, Home, sweet, sweet Home!
There ’s no place like Home! there ’s no place like Home!
How sweet ’t is to sit ’neath a fond father’s smile,
And the cares of a mother to soothe and beguile!
Let others delight mid new pleasures to roam,
But give me, oh, give me, the pleasures of home!
Home! Home! sweet, sweet Home!
There ’s no place like Home! there ’s no place like Home!
To thee I ’ll return, overburdened with care;
The heart’s dearest solace will smile on me there;
No more from that cottage again will I roam;
Be it ever so humble, there ’s no place like home.
Home! Home! sweet, sweet Home!
There ’s no place like Home! there ’s no place like Home!
#4 “Only a Dad” by Edgar Guest
Only a dad with a tired face,
Coming home from the daily race,
Bringing little of gold or fame
To show how well he has played the game;
But glad in his heart that his own rejoice
To see him come and to hear his voice.
Only a dad with a brood of four,
One of ten million men or more
Plodding along in the daily strife,
Bearing the whips and the scorns of life,
With never a whimper of pain or hate,
For the sake of those who at home await.
Only a dad, neither rich nor proud,
Merely one of the surging crowd
Toiling, striving from day to day,
Facing whatever may come his way,
Silent whenever the harsh condemn,
And bearing it all for the love of them.
Only a dad but he gives his all
To smooth the way for his children small,
Doing with courage stern and grim,
The deeds that his father did for him.
This is the line that for him I pen:
Only a dad, but the best of men.
#5 From “We Must Get Home” by James Whitcomb Riley
We must get home! How could we stray like this? –
So far from home, we know not where it is, –
Only in some fair, apple-blossomy place
Of children’s faces – and the mother’s face –
We dimly dream it, till the vision clears
Even in the eyes of fancy, glad with tears.
We must get home – for we have been away
So long, it seems forever and a day!
And O so very homesick we have grown,
The laughter of the world is like a moan
In our tired hearing, and its song as vain, –
We must get home – we must get home again!
We must get home! With heart and soul we yearn
To find the long-lost pathway, and return!…
The child’s shout lifted from the questing band
Of old folk, faring weary, hand in hand,
But faces brightening, as if clouds at last
Were showering sunshine on us as we passed.
We must get home: It hurts so staying here,
Where fond hearts must be wept out tear by tear,
And where to wear wet lashes means, at best,
When most our lack, the least our hope of rest –
When most our need of joy, the more our pain –
We must get home – we must get home again!
We must get home – home to the simple things –
The morning-glories twirling up the strings
And bugling color, as they blared in blue-
And-white o’er garden-gates we scampered through;
The long grape-arbor, with its under-shade
Blue as the green and purple overlaid.
We must get home: All is so quiet there:
The touch of loving hands on brow and hair –
Dim rooms, wherein the sunshine is made mild –
The lost love of the mother and the child
Restored in restful lullabies of rain, –
We must get home – we must get home again!
#6 “Rock Me to Sleep” by Elizabeth Akers Allen
Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for to-night!
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!
Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toil and of tears,—
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain,—
Take them, and give me my childhood again!
I have grown weary of dust and decay,—
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away;
Weary of sowing for others to reap;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!
Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!
Many a summer the grass has grown green,
Blossomed, and faded our faces between,
Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain
Long I to-night for your presence again.
Come from the silence so long and so deep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!
Over my heart, in the days that are flown,
No love like mother-love ever has shone;
No other worship abides and endures,—
Faithful, unselfish, and patient, like yours:
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.
Slumber’s soft calms o’er my heavy lids creep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!
Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again as of old;
Let it drop over my forehead to-night,
Shading my faint eyes away from the light;
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more
Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!
Mother, dear mother, the years have been long
Since I last listened your lullaby song:
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem
Womanhood’s years have been only a dream.
Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
With your light lashes just sweeping your face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!
#7 “Baby Darling” by James McIntyre
A miner in California mine,
For his distant home he did repine,
In a far off Eastern state,
Where did live his own dear mate.
And one great source of all his joy,
His little darling baby boy,
One night to drive his cares away
To concert hall his footsteps stray.
And loud resounding o’er the hall,
He heard a little boy squall,
The sweetest music he e’er heard,
Sweeter far than singing bird.
For his thoughts it caused to roam,
To his distant eastern home,
Near to the mine there were no trace
Of baby dear or woman’s face.
When violinist with his bow
Did make exquisite music flow,
The miner he did loudly bawl
Stop fiddle and let baby squall.
My sad heart his cries doth cheer,
Reminding me of my own dear,
For sooner I would him behold,
Than if I found a mine of gold.
For what are all the joys of life,
So far away from child and wife,
But few more months I will stay here
Then join my wife and baby dear.
#8 “The Baby’s Tear” by Fannie Isabelle Sherrick
A tiny drop of crystal dew
That fell from baby eyes of blue;
A shining treasure, there it lay
For grandma’s love to wipe away.
A tear of sorrow, pure and meek
It graced our darling’s dimpled cheek;
A gem so fair, that angels smiled
And claimed the treasure undefiled.
A sunbeam came with winsome grace
And chased the shadow from her face;
A smile fell from its wings of light
And baby eyes laughed at the sight.
The wee bright tear was kissed away,
Yet in our hearts its sorrow lay;
For like a shadow came the thought,
With pain and sorrow life is wrought.
Oh, baby heart, what will you do
When life’s unrest is given you;
And mother-love no more like this
Each tear can banish with a kiss?
The love you brought, oh, baby dear,
Is like the sunbeam passing near;
A ray of light–a touch of gold
To keep our hearts from growing old.
Then may thy life grow strong and sweet
With mother-love to guide thy feet;
And may the sunbeams ever chase
Each shadow, darling from thy face.
#9 “The Son” by Alfred Lichtenstein
Mother, don’t hold me,
Mother, your caress hurts me,
See through my face,
How I glow and wane.
Give the last kiss. Let me go.
Send a prayer after me.
That I broke your life,
Mother, forgive me.
#10 “The Old-Time Family” by Edgar A. Guest
It makes me smile to hear ’em tell each other
nowadays
The burdens they are bearing, with a child or
two to raise.
Of course the cost of living has gone soaring
to the sky
And our kids are wearing garments that my parents
couldn’t buy.
Now my father wasn’t wealthy, but I never
heard him squeal
Because eight of us were sitting at the table
every meal.
People fancy they are martyrs if their children
number three,
And four or five they reckon makes a large-
sized family.
A dozen hungry youngsters at a table I have
seen
And their daddy didn’t grumble when they
licked the platter clean.
Oh, I wonder how these mothers and these
fathers up-to-date
Would like the job of buying little shoes for
seven or eight.
We were eight around the table in those happy
days back them,
Eight that cleaned our plates of pot-pie and then
passed them up again;
Eight that needed shoes and stockings, eight to
wash and put to bed,
And with mighty little money in the purse, as I have said,
But with all the care we brought them, and
through all the days of stress,
I never heard my father or my mother wish for less.