The Parasol

You are the loveliest parasol I ever saw,—and all my own,— What frilly frills! I feel as tall As mother now. Here! take my doll. Dolls are for children—ladies grown Have parasols, and fans, and rings, And all those pretty, shiny things. Nurse calls you "sunshade," but I think That is too plain a word, for see! You are so satiny and pink And there is such a curly kink Here in your handle, there could be No name too fine, I love you so, I'll take you everywhere I go. Next Sunday when to church I walk, Above my head I'll hold you high. Oh! how the other girls will talk, And maybe some of them will mock, "How proud she feels," as I pass by— I'd hold you up, straight down the aisle, If only people wouldn't smile.