TO HER DOLLY

Come here, poor little Dolly, And sit upon my knee, I will smooth your tangled tresses, For I feel in sympathy. You say your own little mamma Has gone away, and so You must be very lonely, For you always used to go. I can tell you a secret, Dolly, I am sorry it is true, But since your mamma has grown so tall She cannot play with you. Yet she’ll never forget you, Dolly, She told me so to-day, And said that you, and all your things, She was going to put away. And often, very often, She would come and look at you, Would take you up, and smooth your hair And I’m sure that this is true. For the mother heart never forgets us Whatever you hear dolls say, It always loves and forgives us E’en when we go astray. Perhaps, dear little Dolly, In the days that are to be, Other little pink hands will dress you, And fondle you tenderly. It may be her own little daughter Will fold you to her breast, And softly whisper, “I love you, dear, I love you the very best.” ’Twere pleasant to dream of Dolly As you lie in the dark up there, Though it n’er come true, ’Twere better to hope, For it saves us from despair.