The First Lie

I'm sure I did not break this cup; It just fell down,—I know it did— For I was only climbing up, Why do they keep the cake-box hid?— I wanted such a little bit! And then I heard that creaking door, I can't tell what it was I hit, Nor how that cup got on the floor. The shelf it stood on was too high, That cup my mother loved the most! Oh dear! I never told a lie, And mother whispered, "Do not boast," The day I said I never could. (But there's that broken cup!)—and then I promised that I never would— So—I'll not tell a lie—again.