How sweet is the dawn of an infant--
How fondly caressed is the smile;
The mother, though tired and weary,
Forgets all, when blessed with her child.
When the beautiful bud has expanded,
And opens its bloom to our view;
Oh, then we see with advantage,
What Nature intended to do.
And now she can play and can prattle--
With her doll and her toys loves to dwell;
And who upon earth is so happy,
As the dear little girl, Abby Bell.