There is a rather dull cupboard here that knew the voice of my great aunts, that knew the voice of my grandfather dear, that knew the voice of my father, too; and to these memories it is true. You're wrong to think it can only sit, because I talk with it. There's also a cuckoo made of wood. I don't know why its voice is no longer good. I don't like to ask. ... You see, the voice might really be broken, up there in its head, just like the voice of the dead. There's also an old buffet that smells of wax and of conserve, meat, and bread, and ripened pears. It's a faithful servant and it swears 'twill all our goods preserve. Lots of men and women have been here, near it, who do not believe in such a spirit. And I smile, when a visitor comes my way, that he thinks me alone, and starts to say: "Good morning, Mr. Jammes, how are you today?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INEVITABLY (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO ABRAHAM LINCOLN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO SAMUEL COLERIDGE UPON HEARING HIS 'SOME I FEEL LIKE A MOTHERLESS..' by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TUNK (A LECTURE ON MODERN EDUCATION) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SURFACES AND MASKS; 2 by CLARENCE MAJOR |