Poetry Archives

Mother

What’s in that cupboard, Mary?

   Mary

Which cupboard, mother dear?

   Mother

The cupboard of red mahogany
  With handles shining clear.

   Mary

That cupboard, dearest mother,
  With shining crystal handles?
There’s nought inside but rags and jags
  And yellow tallow candles.

   Mother

What’s in that cupboard, Mary?

   Mary

Which cupboard, mother mine?

   Mother

That cupboard stands in your sunny chamber,
  The silver corners shine.

   Mary

There’s nothing there inside, mother,
  But wool and thread and flax,
And bits of faded silk and velvet,
  And candles of white wax.

   Mother

What’s in that cupboard, Mary?
  And this time tell me true.

   Mary

White clothes for an unborn baby, mother,
  But what’s the truth to you?