DOLL POEMS
I
THE PICTURE
THIS is her picture—Dolladine—
The beautifullest doll that ever was seen!
Oh, what nosegays! Oh, what sashes!
Oh, what beautiful eyes and lashes!
Oh, what a precious perfect pet!
On each instep a pink rosette;
Little blue shoes for her little blue tots;
Elegant ribbons in bows and knots.
Her hair is powdered; her arms are straight,
Only feel—she is quite a weight!
Her legs are limp, though;—stand up, miss!—
What a beautiful buttoned-up mouth to kiss!
II
THE LOVE STORY
This is the doll with respect to whom
A story is told that ends in gloom;
For there was a sensitive little sir
Went out of his mind for love of her!
They pulled a wire, she moved her eye;
They squeezed the bellows, they made her cry;
But the boy could never be persuaded
That these were really things which they did.
“My Dolladine,” he said, “has life;
I love her, and she shall be my wife;
Dainty delicate Dolladine,
The prettiest girl that ever was seen!”
To give his passion a chance to cool,
They sent the lover to boarding-school.
But absence only made it worse—
He never learnt anything, prose or verse!
He drew her likeness on his slate;
His Grammar was in a dreadful state,
With Dolladine all over the edges,
And true-love knots, and vows, and pledges.
What was the consequence?—Doctor Whack
Begged of his parents to take him back.
When his condition, poor boy, was seen,
Too late, they sent for Dolladine.
And now he will never part with her:
He calls her lily, and rose, and myrrh,
Dolly-o’-diamonds, precious lamb,
Humming-bird, honey-pot, jewel, jam,
Darling, delicate-dear-delight,
Angel-o’-red, angel-o’-white,
Queen of beauty, and suchlike names;
In fact all manner of darts and flames!
Of course, while he keeps up this wooing
His education goes to ruin:
What are his prospects in future life,
With only a doll for his lawful wife?
It is feared his parents’ hearts will break!
And there’s one remark I wish to make:
I may be wrong, but it seems a pity
For a movable doll to be made too pretty.
An old-fashioned doll, that is not like nature,
Can never pass for a human creature;
It is in a doll that moves her eyes
That the danger of these misfortunes lies!
The lover’s name must be suppressed
For obvious reasons. He lives out west,
And if I call him Pygmalion Pout,
I don’t believe you will find him out!
III
DRESSING HER
This is the way we dress the Doll:—
You may make her a shepherdess, the Doll,
If you give her a crook with a pastoral hook,
But this is the way we dress the Doll.
Chorus: Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple and mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll.
First, you observe her little chemise,
As white as milk, with ruches of silk;
And the little drawers that cover her knees,
As she sits or stands, with golden bands,
And lace in beautiful filagrees.
Chorus: Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple or mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll.
Now these are the bodies: she has two,
One of pink, with ruches of blue,
And sweet white lace; be careful, do!
And one of green, with buttons of sheen,
Buttons and bands of gold, I mean,
With lace on the border in lovely order,
The most expensive we can afford her!
Chorus: Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple or mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll.
Then, with black at the border, jacket;
And this—and this—she will not lack it;
Skirts? Why, there are skirts, of course,
And shoes and stockings we shall enforce,
With a proper bodice, in the proper place
(Stays that lace have had their days
And made their martyrs); likewise garters,
All entire. But our desire
Is to show you her night attire,
At least a part of it. Pray admire
This sweet white thing that she goes to bed in!
It’s not the one that’s made for her wedding;
That is special, a new design,
Made with a charm and a countersign,
Three times three and nine times nine:
These are only her usual clothes:
Look, there’s a wardrobe! gracious knows
It’s pretty enough, as far as it goes!
So you see the way we dress the Doll:
You might make her a shepherdess, the Doll,
If you gave her a crook with a pastoral hook,
With sheep, and a shed, and a shallow brook,
And all that, out of the poetry-book.
Chorus: Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple and mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll;
If you had not seen, could you guess the Doll?