The Mother’s Charge

She raised her head. With hot and glittering eye, ‘I know,’ she said, ‘that I am going to die. Come here, my daughter, while my mind is clear. Let me make plain to you your duty here; My duty once — I never failed to try— But for some reason I am going to die.’ She raised her head, and, while her eyes rolled wild, Poured these instructions on the gasping child: ‘Begin at once — don’t iron sitting down— Wash your potatoes when the fat is brown— Monday, unless it rains — it always pays To get fall sewing done on the right days— A carpet-sweeper and a little broom— Save dishes — wash the summer dining-room With soda — keep the children out of doors— The starch is out — beeswax on all the floors— If girls are treated like your friends they stay— They stay, and treat you like their friends — the way To make home happy is to keep a jar — And save the prettiest pieces for the star In the middle — blue’s too dark — all silk is best— And don’t forget the corners — when they’re dressed Put them on ice — and always wash the chest Three times a day, the windows every week— We need more flour — the bedroom ceilings leak— It’s better than onion — keep the boys at home— Gardening is good — a load, three loads of loam— They bloom in spring — and smile, smile always, dear— Be brave, keep on — I hope I’ve made it clear.’ She died, as all her mothers died before. Her daughter died in turn, and made one more.