THE little rag doll is queen, Her realm is a maiden's heart, And there she will reign serene, And play her important part. A bundle of rags is she, With collar of scraggly fur; She's only a doll to me, But more than a doll to her. A doll that I thought a prize I gave to the little maid, That opened and shut its eyes, And beauty of face displayed; But somehow it seemed to me She never received the care I daily and hourly see Bestowed on a doll less fair. The doll that can really talk, The doll in the silken dress, The doll that is made to walk Lies lonely in some recess; Forgotten and pushed aside, It lies in the dust apart, While that of the rags, in pride, Is held to the maiden's heart. The doll is a doll to me, A bundle of rags and fur, And yet I am quick to see It's more than a doll to her; And so it maintains its place, Unrivalled it holds its own; In rags and a painted face It stands in her heart alone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ASPIRATIONS OF A COUNTRY LAD by GEORGE SANTAYANA CLASS SONG (WHICH WILL BE SUNG ON THE 22ND OF FEBRUARY) by GEORGE SANTAYANA LINES; SUGGESTED BY GRAVES TWO ENGLISH SOLDIERS ON CONCORD by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL ON THE HOME GUARDS; WHO PERISHED ... LEXINGTON, MISSOURI by HERMAN MELVILLE THE SEAGULL by HERBERT BASHFORD A QUARTET ('THE MIKADO' AT CAMBRIDGE) by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |