Polly's Baby by M. D. Brine
All in the daintiest cradle
That baby could wish to own,
It lay contentedly winking,
Where Polly had left it alone.
It wasn't a mere doll-baby;
Ah, no! that Polly would scorn;
But this she loved through the daytime,
And dreamed of from night till morn.
A cap its small head adorning,
A robe of cambric so white,
And round its waist, for a "dress up,"
A ribbon so blue and bright!
Its eyes were, Polly thought, lovely,
Because they were gray, and she
Was always brushing the soft hair,
As black as black hair could be.
But once our Polly was naughty,
And struck her baby at last;
When, lo! it jumped out of the cradle,
And scampered from danger fast.
Do you think that was strange for a baby—
For Polly's wee baby—to do?
Why, children, 'twas only a kitty,
Brimful of mischief—and mew!