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 The hair she means to have is gold,
 Her eyes are blue, she's twelve weeks old,
  Plump read more 
 The hair she means to have is gold,
 Her eyes are blue, she's twelve weeks old,
  Plump are her fists and pinky.
   She fluttered down in lucky hour
    From some blue deep in yon sky bower--
     I call her "Little Dinky." 
 Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps;
 Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps;
  She, while read more 
 Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps;
 Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps;
  She, while the lovely babe unconscious lies,
   Smiles on her slumbering child with pensive eyes. 
 When you fold your hands, Baby Louise!
 Your hands like a fairy's, so tiny and fair,
  With read more 
 When you fold your hands, Baby Louise!
 Your hands like a fairy's, so tiny and fair,
  With a pretty, innocent, saintlike air,
   Are you trying to think of some angel-taught prayer
    You learned above, Baby Louise. 
 Her beads while she numbered,
 The baby still slumbered,
  And smile in her face, as she bended read more 
 Her beads while she numbered,
 The baby still slumbered,
  And smile in her face, as she bended her knee;
   Oh! bless'd be that warning,
    My child, thy sleep adorning,
     For I know that the angels are whispering with thee. 
 Rock-bye-baby on the tree top,
 When the wind blows the cradle will rock.
  When the bough bends read more 
 Rock-bye-baby on the tree top,
 When the wind blows the cradle will rock.
  When the bough bends the cradle will fall,
   Down comes the baby, cradle and all. 
 Suck, baby! suck! mother's love grows by giving:
 Drain the sweet founts that only thrive by wasting!
  read more 
 Suck, baby! suck! mother's love grows by giving:
 Drain the sweet founts that only thrive by wasting!
  Black manhood comes when riotous guilty living
   Hands thee the cup that shall be death in tasting. 
 Have you not heard the poets tell
 How came the dainty Baby Bell
  Into this world of read more 
 Have you not heard the poets tell
 How came the dainty Baby Bell
  Into this world of ours? 
 He is so little to be so large!
 Why, a train of cars, or a whale-back barge
  read more 
 He is so little to be so large!
 Why, a train of cars, or a whale-back barge
  Couldn't carry the freight
   Of the monstrous weight
    Of all of his qualities, good and great.
     And tho' one view is as good as another
      Don't take my word for it. Ask his mother! 
 O child! O new-born denizen
 Of life's great city! on thy head
  The glory of morn is read more 
 O child! O new-born denizen
 Of life's great city! on thy head
  The glory of morn is shed,
   Like a celestial benison!
    Here at the portal thou dost stand,
     And with thy little hand
      Thou openest the mysterious gate
       Into the future's undiscovered land.