A Memory

A Memory
Emily Sargent Lewis
572

My mother died when I was four,
That’s why I can’t remember more
Of what she used to do and say
So long ago I’m six to-day

I know one day she climbed with me,
Way up into the apple tree,
The flowers fell down upon us so
We laughed and played that they were snow

And then I used to help her fill
The blue jar on her window-sill
With crackers-just for my own self-
It’s high up now upon the shelf

Her hair was very black I think
Her dress was almost always pink
If God would let her come to-day
I’m sure I’d know her right away