A Sad Case by an Old DollCharlotteBainBain, CharlotteIllustratorGordon FrederickBrowneBrowne, Gordon
Metadata research and editing
DVPP Project TeamFralickKaitlynUniversity of Victoria Digital Victorian Periodical Poetry ProjectVictoria, BC, Canada
In the public domain
Poem signed C. I. M. Bain. (AC)Atalanta329295–297On a shelf in this cupboard, shut up with my
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A Sad Case
by an Old Doll
On a shelf in this cupboard, shut up with my
woes,I mourn the bright days that are gone.What do these children care about old ‛ Timber Toes ’ ?(As I’m called by that rascal, young John.)To the best of the bunch, even, kind little Poll,What am I?—just grandmamma’s old wooden doll !To look at me now you would never supposeThe beauty I was long ago :Curls—floss silk ! Cheeks—blush roses ! Eyes—blackberries ! sloes !It would puzzle some poets, I know,To describe me, so doll-like, so stately my style !So bright was my stare ! so attractive my smile !My clothes were to match. What ‛ spencers ’ ! what shoes !What bonnets, capes, muffs I recall !There was one pea-green satin—I’d several blues,And a pink—what’s become of them all ?My red leather trunk even, (hardest of blows !)Isn’t mine any more, it holds other dolls’ clothes !But now for my grievances—though I must sayI’m not one to tell tales out of school.Boys are boys, girls are girls, dolls are dolls, play is play ;Still for once I must break through my rule.Jokes are jokes—but a doll, I think, really mustspeak,Who’s been buried, marooned, hanged and drowned in one week !It’s John who invents all these horrible games,The girls play whatever he likes—Bandits, cannibals, castaways, prairies in flames,Hangings, funerals, shipwrecks, and ‛ strikes ’ ;Red Indians (I’ll pause, for my anger is hot !),This game, to my mind, is the worst of the lot !John had on his war-paint once, more than a week,Squaws and moccasins ! That was a time !(Of all I went through at some length I would speakBut a tale’s sadly hampered by rhyme.)Scalped, tomahawked, roasted—with pride I recallHow I smiled unconcerned as a Brave through it all !Yes, yes ! dolls were dolls in my time ! We were tough !I’m not vain, but I really must sayI’ve no words to express my contempt for the stuffDolls of fashion are made of to-day.Flimsy things ! One good blow—there, you have ’em in cracks !No, no ! wood for me, if you please, before wax !But I’ve borne quite enough—my temper’s notmild.Dolls of spirit like me are too few.Revenged I will be on that hobgoblin child ;The question is—what shall I do ?(The doll meditates deeply for ten minutes.)I’ve got it ! Ha, ha ! I’m as heavy as lead ;Next time John’s in this cupboard I’ll fall on his head !C. I. M. Bain.