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The Cupboard.
by Robert von Ranke GravesMother
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?