"Why so shy, my Pansy,
Tell me why so shy?
Mother's arms are round thee;
This is grandma by.
She can tell you stories
Of the time, my dear,
When she was a little girl
Just like Pansy here.
"Once there was a dolly,
And its name was Bess;
Grandma then, like Pansy,
Was—how old? Now guess!
Just the age of Pansy!
Well, one night, you see"—
"Grandma," said the little girl,
"Take me on your knee."
Pansy's shyness melted;
Grandma won the day:
Now hugged tight in grandma's arms
Little Pansy lay;
And she heard a story
Of a doll so fine,
Left out on the cold, cold ground,
Where no sun could shine.
And the snow fell slowly,
Softly fell, like down,
Till a heap of drifted flakes
Covered dolly's gown.
Yes, it hid and covered
All the bright blue dress,
Then her hair and rosy cheeks—
Poor forsaken Bess!
Dolly's little mother
Hunted for her child;
But no trace of her was seen
Till the air grew mild.
When the snow was melted,
There was dolly found,
With her silken dress all soiled
On the muddy ground.