Negligent Mary

AH,

Mary! what, do you for dolly not care?

And why is she left on the floor?

Forsaken, and cover'd with dust,

I declare;

With you I must trust her no more.

I thought you were pleased, as you took her so gladly,

When on your birthday she was sent;

Did I ever suppose you would use her so sadly?

Was that, do you think, what I meant?

With her bonnet of straw you once were delighted,

And trimm'd it so pretty with pink;

But now it is crumpled, and dolly is slighted:

Her nurse quite forgets her,

I think. Suppose now–for Mary is dolly to me,

Whom I love to see tidy and fair–Suppose I should leave you, as dolly I see,

In tatters, and comfortless there.

But dolly feels nothing, as you do, my dear,

Nor cares for her negligent nurse:

If I were as careless as you are,

I fear,

Your lot, and my fault, would be worse.

And therefore it is, in my Mary,

I

To check every fault that I see:

Mary's doll is but waxen–mamma's is alive,

And of far more importance than she.