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.