The Broken Doll.

An infant is a selfish sprite:

But what of that? the sweet delight

Which from participation springs,

Is quite unknown to these young things.

We elder children then will smile

At our dear little John awhile,

And bear with him, until he see

There is a sweet felicity

In pleasing more than only one,

Dear little, craving, selfish John.

~

He laughs, and thinks it a fine joke

That he our new wax doll has broke.

Anger will never teach him better:

We will the spirit and the letter

Of courtesy to him display

By taking in a friendly way

These baby frolics; till he learn

True sport from mischief to discern.

~

Reproof a parent’s province is;

A sister’s discipline is this;

By studied kindness to effect

A little brother’s young respect.

What is a doll? a fragile toy.

What is its loss? If the dear boy,

Who half perceives he’s done amiss,

Retain impression of the kiss

That follow’d instant on his cheek;

If the kind loving words we speak

Of “Never mind it:” “We forgive;”

If these in his short memory live

Only perchance for half-a-day—

Who minds a doll—if that should lay

The first impression in his mind

That sisters are to brothers kind?

For thus the broken doll may prove

Foundation to fraternal love.