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Title: When Mother Made An Angel Cake
Author: Edgar A. Guest [
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When mother baked an angel cake we kids would gather round
An' watch her gentle hands at work, an' never make a sound;
We'd watch her stir the eggs an' flour an' powdered sugar, too,
An' pour it in the crinkled tin, an' then when it was through
She'd spread the icing over it, an' we knew very soon
That one would get the plate to lick, an' one would get the spoon.
It seemed no matter where we were those mornings at our play,
Upstairs or out of doors somewhere, we all knew right away
When Ma was in the kitchen, an' was gettin' out the tin
An' things to make an angel cake, an' so we scampered in.
An' Ma would smile at us an' say: "Now you keep still an' wait
An' when I'm through I'll let you lick the spoon an' icing plate."
We watched her kneel beside the stove, an' put her arm so white
Inside the oven just to find if it was heatin' right.
An' mouths an' eyes were open then, becoz we always knew
The time for us to get our taste was quickly comin' due.
Then while she mixed the icing up, she'd hum a simple tune,
An' one of us would bar the plate, an' one would bar the spoon.
Could we catch a glimpse of Heaven, and some snow-white kitchen there,
I'm sure that we'd see mother, smiling now, and still as fair;
And I know that gathered round her we should see an angel brood
That is watching every movement as she makes an angel food;
For I know that little angels, as we used to do, await
The moment when she lets them lick the icing spoon and plate.
[The end]
Edgar A. Guest's poem: When Mother Made An Angel Cake
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