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 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? 
 Sweet babe, in thy face
 Soft desires I can trace,
  Secret joys and secret smiles,
  read more 
 Sweet babe, in thy face
 Soft desires I can trace,
  Secret joys and secret smiles,
   Little pretty infant wiles. 
 A tight little bundle of wailing and flannel,
 Perplex'd with the newly found fardel of life.  
 A tight little bundle of wailing and flannel,
 Perplex'd with the newly found fardel of life. 
 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. 
 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. 
 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! 
 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. 
 A baby was sleeping,
 Its mother was weeping.  
 A baby was sleeping,
 Its mother was weeping. 
 How lovely he appears! his little cheeks
 In their pure incarnation, vying with
  The rose leaves strewn read more 
 How lovely he appears! his little cheeks
 In their pure incarnation, vying with
  The rose leaves strewn beneath them.
   And his lips, too,
    How beautifully parted! No; you shall not
     Kiss him; at least not now; he will wake soon--
      His hour of midday rest is nearly over.