"THAT FAIRY HOPE, OH! SHE AWAKED SUCH HAPPY DREAMS."—Drawn by Mrs. Jessie Shepherd.
[THE LAMENT OF A LEFT-OVER DOLL.]
BY JOSEPHINE POLLARD.
I'm a left-over doll, and I grieve to relate
How sad is my fortune, how lonely my fate;
For I had no notion that I should lie here,
Forlorn and neglected, at this time of year.
Oh, long before Christmas they dressed me up fine—
No dollie had clothes any better than mine;
And I rather imagine I looked very nice,
As many fine ladies inquired my price.
I was handled and dandled, and fondly caressed,
My beauty admired, my value confessed,
And yet for some reason or other was I
Put back in the show-case; the buyer went by.
One dear little maiden came into the store;
She saw me, and for me began to implore,
And said that there wasn't a doll in the place
With a handsomer dress or a lovelier face.
She stared at me long, so of course I stared back,
And saw that her eyes were a beautiful black;
And I wanted to speak, but I couldn't, because
I hadn't been made with a hinge in my jaws.
I dreamed about Christmas, and how I should be
Stuck into a stocking or up on a tree,
Then carried about in my mistress's arms
That all might admire my wonderful charms.
But Santa Claus came, and he went on his way,
And took with him many a doll, I dare say;
But as I've a chance to look round me, I find
That dozens and dozens have been left behind.
If you were a left-over dollie yourself,
You'd know how I feel lying here on the shelf
So long after Christmas; and wouldn't expect
Me to smile at old Santa Claus' cruel neglect.
They've marked down my price; and I very much fear
That those who buy cheaply will hold me less dear,
And the army of curious shoppers I shun
Since I had no part in the holiday fun.