The Poetry Corner

The Cupboard.

By Robert von Ranke Graves

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?