Overheard
To think on the story told—
Not to me, but to her friend—
Of a life that had only one end,
And for burden, "Oh, so cold!"
Have you ever seen on the face
Of a child a sort of despair,
A comical, hopeless air,
When a toy won't work, or a doll won't cry,
Or a cart runs awkwardly?
Well, I saw it there
As she moved to a further chair.
She'd broken some toy she had—
Or, was it a life gone bad?
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