Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A MOTHER'S CHRONOLOGY, by EVELYN MABEL WATSON



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A MOTHER'S CHRONOLOGY, by            
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 mashie—all are broken,
The clocks that made him joke.

My son is gone—he 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.





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