My Old Doll by Ruth Collie — Read

"Too old," they cried, "with dolls to play. " And so I gently laid / away the doll my father bought for me when I was only half past / three. One day, I mused, my own wee girl may hug that doll and kiss / each curl. How could I tell a roguish boy would treat with scorn my / childhood's joy? One spring, when tidying things anew, my dolly came / again to view. I hugged her and I smoothed her head. "You'll go to / Barbara," I said. "My niece, my golden Babs, is four, she'll love / you as I did of yore. " But when it came to paper, string, I felt my / eyes with salt tears sting. I put that dolly back again! Absurd? I / know. But oh! the pain. Then later, when a year had passed, I took / that doll, and held her fast. Said I, "To little Ruth you'll go, / that niece of mine will love you so. " I smoothed her dress and / ironed her lace -- then put her back in her old place. It's very, very / clear to me, the little girl I used to be refuses to relinquish Moll, / the first, and last, and best-loved Doll!