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A FANCY.

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A FANCY. I Suppose if ell the children Who have lived through ages long Were collected and inspected They would make a wondrous throng. Oh, the babble of the Babel! Oh, the flutter of the fuss To begin with Cain and Abel, And to finish up with ua Think of all the men and women Who ere now and who haro been, Every nation since creation That this world of ours have seen And of all of them, not any But was once a baby small; While of children, oh, how many Never have grown up at all! Some have never laughed or spoken, Never used their rosy feet; Some have oven flown to heaven Ere they knew that earth was swoet; And, indeed, I wonder whether, If we reckon every birth, And bring such a flock together, There is room for them on earth ? Who will wash their smiling faces ? Who their saucy ears will box ? Who will dress them, and caress them ? Who will darn their little socks ? Where are arms enough to hold them ? Hands to pat each shining head ? Who will praise them ? who will scold them ? Who will pack them off to bed ? Little happy Christian children, Little savage ohildren too, In all stages, of all ages, That our planet ever knew Little princes and princesses, Little beggars wan and faint, Some in very handsome dresses, Naked some, bodaubed with paint. Only think of the confusion Suoh a motly crowd would make And the ctytter of their chatter, And the things that they would break T Ob, the babble of the Babel! ( Ob, the flutter of the fuss! To begin with Cain and Abel, And to finish off with us

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