The Lonesome Child

The baby in the looking-glass Is smiling through at me; She has her teaspoon in her hand, Her feeder on for tea.

And if I look behind her I Can see the table spread; I wonder if she has to eat The nasty crusts of bread.

Her doll, like mine, is sitting close Beside her special chair, She has a pussy on her lap; It must be my cup there.

Her picture-book is on the floor, The cover’s just the same; And tidily upon the shelf I see my Ninepin game.

O baby in the looking glass, Come through and play with me, And if you will, I promise, dear, To eat your crusts at tea.