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.