Frederick Locker-Lampson on Infant
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βA tight little bundle of wailing and flannel, Perplex'd with the newly found fardel of life.β
βThe 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 bowerβ I call her "Little Dinky."β