The baby in the
Is smiling through at me;
She has her teaspoon in her hand,
Her feeder on for tea.
And if I look behind her
Can see the table spread;
I wonder if she has to
The nasty crusts of bread.
Her doll, like mine, is sitting
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 shelfI 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.
