Whenever I'm tired of reading,
Or lonely in my play,
I come to the window here, and watch
The little girl over the way.
But she will not look nor listen,
Nor stand for a moment still;
And though I watch her the livelong day,
I'm afraid she never will.
For some day some one will buy her,
And carry her quite away;--
She is only a doll in a great glass-case,
The little girl over the way.