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 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. 
 The morning that my baby came
 They found a baby swallow dead,
  And saw a something hard read more 
 The morning that my baby came
 They found a baby swallow dead,
  And saw a something hard to name
   Fly mothlike over baby's bed. 
 When the baby dies,
 On every side
  Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud.
  read more 
 When the baby dies,
 On every side
  Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud.
   The baby was not wrapped in any shroud.
    The mother made no sound. Her head was bowed
     That men's eyes might not see
      Her misery. 
 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. 
 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. 
 He seemed a cherub who had lost his way
 And wandered hither, so his stay
  With us read more 
 He seemed a cherub who had lost his way
 And wandered hither, so his stay
  With us was short, and 'twas most meet,
   That he should be no delver in earth's clod,
    Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet
     To stand before his God:
      O blest word--Evermore! 
 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. 
 "The hand that rocks the cradle"--but there is no such hand.
 It is bad to rock the baby, they read more 
 "The hand that rocks the cradle"--but there is no such hand.
 It is bad to rock the baby, they would have us understand;
  So the cradle's but a relic of the former foolish days,
   When mothers reared their children in unscientific ways;
    When they jounced them and they bounced them, those poor dwarfs 
of long ago--
     The Washingtons and Jeffersons, you know.