The sun shone in glory o'er valley and hill,
When up through the meadow and over the sill
There dances a bright little sunbeam astray,
Till it reaches a fair, blue-eyed baby at play.
" How pretty," says baby, and, laughing with joy,
She casts from her hand her most cherished toy;
And over the carpet she creeps with delight
To grasp this new toy that now dazzles her sight.
There! her plump little hand has come down with a will,
And she sits back in triumph; but now her eyes fill
With a strange, baby awe, as her fingers unclose,
And there, to her wonder, they nothing disclose.
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