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<h2> BEARD AND BABY </h2>
<p>I say, as one who never feared<br/>
The wrath of a subscriber's bullet,<br/>
I pity him who has a beard<br/>
But has no little girl to pull it!<br/>
When wife and I have finished tea,<br/>
Our baby woos me with her prattle,<br/>
And, perching proudly on my knee,<br/>
She gives my petted whiskers battle.<br/>
With both her hands she tugs away,<br/>
While scolding at me kind o' spiteful;<br/>
You'll not believe me when I say<br/>
I find the torture quite delightful!<br/>
No other would presume, I ween,<br/>
To trifle with this hirsute wonder,<br/>
Else would I rise in vengeful mien<br/>
And rend his vandal frame asunder!<br/>
But when her baby fingers pull<br/>
This glossy, sleek, and silky treasure,<br/>
My cup of happiness is full—<br/>
I fairly glow with pride and pleasure!<br/>
And, sweeter still, through all the day<br/>
I seem to hear her winsome prattle—<br/>
I seem to feel her hands at play,<br/>
As though they gave me sportive battle.<br/>
Yes, heavenly music seems to steal<br/>
Where thought of her forever lingers,<br/>
And round my heart I always feel<br/>
The twining of her dimpled fingers!<br/></p>
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