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Show A POOR LITTLE GIRL. (Joseph Dana Miller in Criterion.) She never ran with a hoop, nor blew Soap bubles out of a pipe, nor knew In all her days what a world of fun It was to scamper and jump and run She was born to wealth and a house of pride, And must be proper and dignified. Dear little girl, I am sad for you: They have niched your world of Its roseate rose-ate hue; They have robbed the sweets of your childish play And stolen your years and your dreams away; And you are a little girl no more, Poor little martyr in pinafore. , I frankly own I should shrink to face Your accusing eyes at the throne of grace; I tremble to think what the King may mete To the culprit crouched at the judgment seat Who has taken a child that was made to sing And stilled the song deceived the King! |