Chapter III: Dressing Her

This is the way we dress the Doll:--
You may make her a shepherdess, the Doll,
If you give her a crook with a pastoral hook,
But this is the way we dress the Doll.

_Chorus:_ Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple and mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll.

First, you observe her little chemise,
As white as milk, with ruches of silk;
And the little drawers that cover her knees,
As she sits or stands, with golden bands,
And lace in beautiful filagrees.

_Chorus:_ Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple or mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll.

Now these are the bodies: she has two,
One of pink, with ruches of blue,
And sweet white lace; be careful, do!
And one of green, with buttons of sheen,
Buttons and bands of gold, I mean,
With lace on the border in lovely order,
The most expensive we can afford her!

_Chorus:_ Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple or mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll.

Then, with black at the border, jacket;
And this--and this--she will not lack it;
Skirts? Why, there are skirts, of course,
And shoes and stockings we shall enforce,
With a proper bodice, in the proper place
(Stays that lace have had their days
And made their martyrs); likewise garters,
All entire. But our desire
Is to show you her night attire,
At least a part of it. Pray admire
This sweet white thing that she goes to bed in!
It’s not the one that’s made for her wedding;
_That_ is special, a new design,
Made with a charm and a countersign,
Three times three and nine times nine:
These are only her usual clothes:
Look, _there’s_ a wardrobe! gracious knows
It’s pretty enough, as far as it goes!

So you see the way we dress the Doll:
You might make her a shepherdess, the Doll,
If you gave her a crook with a pastoral hook,
With sheep, and a shed, and a shallow brook,
And all that, out of the poetry-book.

_Chorus:_ Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple and mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll;
If you had not seen, could you guess the Doll?

THE LITTLE DOLL’S HOUSE IN ARCADY

The boys and girls were exceeding gay,
With billycock bonnets and curds and whey,
And I thought that I was in Arcady,
For the fringe of the forest was fair to see.

But the very first hayrick that I came to
Did turn to a Doll’s House, fair and true;
I saw with my eyes where the same did sit,
And there was a rainbow over it.

The people inside were setting the platters,
The chairs and tables, and suchlike matters,
And making the beds and getting the tea:
But through a bow-window I saw the sea.

Up came a damsel: “Sir,” she said,
“Will you walk with me by my garden bed?
Will you sit in my parlour by-and-by?”
“I will sit in your parlour, my dear,” said I.

“Will you hear my starling gossip?” said she,
And now I felt sure it was Arcady;
But a starling never could do the rhyming
That very soon in my ears was chiming:--

“Jigglum-jogglum, Lilliputlandum,
Twopenny tiptop, sugaricandum,
Snip-snap snorum, hot-cross buns,
Conjugatorum, double-dunce.

“Fannyfold funnyface, fairy-tale,
Cat in a cockle-boat, wigglum-whale,
Dickory-dolphin, humpty-hoo,
Floppety-fluteykin, tootle-tum-too.”

Said I, “There may be a clown outside,
And a clown I never could yet abide,--
A picker and stealer, a clumsy joker,
Who stirs up his friends with a burning poker.

“But perhaps,” said I, “I mistake the plan;
It may be the Punch-and-Judy man,
Or the other, that keeps the galante show
And the marionettes, for what I know.”

Then I opened the window through thick and thin,
And in with a bounce came a Harlequin,
And very distinctly I heard a band
Strike up the dances of Lilliput Land.

To wonder at this I did incline,
“And where,” said I, “is the Columbine--
Tip-toe twist-about, shimmer and shine,
Where is the beautiful Columbine?”

Then out from the curtains, all shimmer and shine,
With a rose-red sash came Columbine,
And Harlequin took her by the hand,
And they stepped it out in Lilliput Land;
Twirl about, whirl about, shimmer and shine,
O a rose-red sash had Columbine!

Then one of the folks who had set the tea
In Doll’s House fashion, did climb my knee,
And he said, “Would you like, sir, to take a trip
With me? Have you seen my little ship?”

The ship, as he called it, was certainly small,
For the dot of a sailor could carry it all:
So both got in, and away went we,
Coasting the sea-board of Arcady.

Then I told a story, and he told one,
But they both got mixed before they were done;
And so did we, as the day grew dim,
And the child was myself, and myself was him.

But now it was getting time to land,
So I stepped into Fleet Street, and went up the Strand,
For I thought I should like to study the trade
They drive in toys at the Lowther Arcade.

And whom should I see, at a Doll’s House door,
But the very same damsel I met before!
“I thought I should see you again,” says she;
“And a few of my friends will be here to tea.”

Then the Punch-and-Judy man came in,
And Columbine and the Harlequin,
The man that patters in front of the show,
And the children--and how their tongues did go!

But what makes the place so sweet? thought I,
As scents of the heather and furze went by,
And with them a whiff of the rolling sea;--
And then I remembered Arcady,
As the party were tittering over the tea.

THE PEDLAR’S CARAVAN

I wish I lived in a caravan,
With a horse to drive, like a pedlar-man!
Where he comes from nobody knows,
Or where he goes to, but on he goes!

His caravan has windows two,
And a chimney of tin, that the smoke comes through;
He has a wife, with a baby brown,
And they go riding from town to town.

Chairs to mend, and delf to sell!
He clashes the basins like a bell;
Tea-trays, baskets ranged in order,
Plates, with alphabets round the border!

The roads are brown, and the sea is green,
But his house is like a bathing-machine;
The world is round, and he can ride,
Rumble and slash, to the other side!

With the pedlar-man I should like to roam,
And write a book when I came home;
All the people would read my book,
Just like the Travels of Captain Cook!

THE FIRST TOOTH

There once was a wood, and a very thick wood,
So thick that to walk was as much as you could;
But a sunbeam got in, and the trees understood.

I went to this wood, at the end of the snows,
And as I was walking I saw a primrose;
Only one! Shall I show you the place where it grows?

There once was a house, and a very dark house,
As dark, I believe, as the hole of a mouse,
Or a tree in my wood, at the thick of the boughs.

I went to this house, and I searched it aright,
I opened the chambers, and I found a light;
Only one! Shall I show you this little lamp bright?

There once was a cave, and this very dark cave
One day took a gift from an incoming wave;
And I made up my mind to know what the sea gave.

I took a lit torch, I walked round the ness
When the water was lowest; and in a recess
In my cave was a jewel. Will nobody guess?

O there was a baby, he sat on my knee,
With a pearl in his mouth that was precious to me,
His little dark mouth like my cave of the sea!

I said to my heart, “And my jewel is bright!
He blooms like a primrose! He shines like a light!”
Put your hand in his mouth! Do you feel? He can bite!

PRAISE AND LOVE

Tell me, Praise, and tell me, Love,
What you both are thinking of?

“Oh, we think,” said Love, said Praise,
“Now of children and their ways.”

Give me of your cup to drink,
Praise, and tell me all you think.

“Oh, I think of crowns of gold
For the clever and the bold.”

Then I turned to Love, and said,--
Love was glowing heavenly-red,--

Give me of your cup to drink,
Love, and tell me all you think.

Let me taste your bitter-sweet;
Who are those that kiss your feet?

Love looked up--I read her eyes--
They were stars and they were skies.

Clinging to her garment’s hem,
Smiling as I looked at them,

There were children scarred and halt,
Children weeping for a fault;
Those who scarcely dared to raise
Doubtful eyes to smiling Praise.

Love looked round, and Praise and Pride
Brought their glad ones to her side.

“Yea, these too,” she said or sang,
And the world with music rang.

TWO PICTURES

I

There was a little fellow
Who lived across the sea,
His hair was brown and yellow
As any honey-bee.
Sometimes he was the smartest
Of warriors in the van;
He was a Bonapartist,
And a Republican.

A fort of cards he builded,
Though now and then they slid;
With ammunition filled it,
Or made believe he did;
And when the fort was wrought up,
This little man amain
His big artillery brought up,
And blew it down again!

II

This little Bonapartist,
Or, say, Republican,
Would sometimes play the artist,--
The busy little man!
Sometimes he was untidy,
Though often he was smart;
He thought that he was mighty
In many kinds of Art.
He sat like any fixture,
The drawing-board before;
And, oh, to see the mixture
Of colours on the floor!
Such was this little fellow,
Who lived across the sea,
Whose hair was brown and yellow,
Just like a honey-bee.