Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A MOTHER'S CHRONOLOGY, by EVELYN MABEL WATSON First Line: You measure life by months and days Last Line: With which I grieving deck his grave. Subject(s): Death; Memory; Mothers & Sons; Soldiers; Time; Dead, The | ||||||||
You measure life by months and days According to some calendar, But I must count in other ways, I might reflect, in secret, sir. There's a worn-out shoe for one year old, A battered slate and broken bat, A tarnished cup that once seemed gold, And useless things like that. I do not store my attic full, But full is memory The painted sled he used to pull A whistle from a tree. In later years his sweaters marked Initialed for his 'Varsity The memory of where he parked The car that used to be. I count the years by each small token, His badly battered desk of oak, His putt and mashieall are broken, The clocks that made him joke. My son is gonehe went to battle. I keep these memories once for all, A sword in hands that held a rattle I almost hear him call. I would not count by months and years, (A calendar old savants gave). I reckon wreaths, the prayers, the tears With which I grieving deck his grave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRIEND KILLED IN THE WAR by ANTHONY HECHT FOR JAMES MERRILL: AN ADIEU by ANTHONY HECHT TARANTULA: OR THE DANCE OF DEATH by ANTHONY HECHT CHAMPS D?ÇÖHONNEUR by ERNEST HEMINGWAY NOTE TO REALITY by TONY HOAGLAND INDIANS SELL THINGS ALONG OUR STREETS by EVELYN MABEL WATSON |
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