I am working through all 40 of the poems I have selected for my presentation of "Celebration". You will note that I have started giving them numbers.
I have covered "Birth" and now move on to the next category, "Childhood", with this poem from "The Water Babies", by Charles Kingsley.
It was a favourite of my mother and she recited it to all her young children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren - sitting enraptured on her lap or at her feet.
I think it was possibly the only poem she knew by heart and it still brings back fond memories to me.
THE LOST DOLL
I once had a sweet little doll, dears,
The prettiest doll in the world;
Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,
And her hair was so charmingly curled.
But I lost my poor little doll, dears,
As I played in the heath one day;
And I cried for more than a week, dears,
But I never could find where she lay.
I found my poor little doll, dears,
As I played in the heath one day:
Folks say she is terribly changed, dears,
For her paint is all washed away,
And her arms trodden off by the cows, dears
And her hair not the least bit curled:
Yet for old sakes' sake she is still, dears,
The prettiest doll in the world.
Charles Kingsley, 1819-1875













24/05/06 @ 09:37