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THE OLD DOLL.

Sarah O. Jewett

Why, my poor, forsaken dolly! Where is your little mistress?
   Do I not hear her singing somewhere about the house?
But your gown is so old-fashioned, your curls are very dusty,
   And your nose - can it be possible! - what, eaten by a mouse?

It was so little while ago that, dressed in finest fashion,
   You had your chair in the parlor; you drove out every day;
You counted friends by the dozens; you gave such charming parties;
   I wonder why you sit alone in the garret, thrown away.

How very sad it must have been to find the world you lived in
   Change and grow older every day, while you were just the same.
I think I know the story. Did they talk more with each other
   And go to walk without "the dolls"? Ah! you were not to blame.

Tell me, you poor, old dolly, if she never once seemed sorry
   That things had changed so utterly, as the days rushed on so fast?
Perhaps she wished the playhouse friends were still her best and dearest,
   And every one as good and true as you in days long past.

What happy times those must have been, for Kitty loved you dearly;
   What solemn secrets you must know, if you could only tell;
How she would smile to hear them now, that tall, reserved young lady,
   Who told you everything she knew and cared for you so well.

Ah! It's really very hard, and I pity you, poor old Rosa -
   Once the best of all her treasures, and now sitting here alone;
But the children grow up, dolly, and the days and nights do hurry,
   Till they leave behind old pleasures and are men and women grown.


Note
"The Old Doll" appeared in The Independent (25:93) July 24, 1872.

Edited by Terry Heller, Coe College


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