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The Dance of Life

A Poem, by the author of "Doctor Syntax;%" [i.e. William Combe] Illustrated with coloured engravings, by Thomas Rowlandson
  

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'Twere well if sage, domestic power
Would watch the Infant's earliest hour;
And let that constant care be shown
Which Duty may be proud to own.
Chuse sense as well as healthy state
In those who on the Cradle wait;
Nor e'er allow that vulgar curse,
The babbling nonsense of a Nurse.
Oh never cease the thought to scan,
That ev'ry Boy may be a Man!
'Tis known, that oft the Goblin's tale
Does to Life's latest hour prevail;
And Doctrines, by the Nurses taught,
Are fix'd for ever in the thought:
The fair Impression then pursue,
Of what is just, and what is true;

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Nor think Instruction's hourly boon,
In its due shape, can come too soon.
The seeds, in earliest Childhood sown
As buds, will in the Boy be known:
In Youth, as blossoms will appear,
And in full Manhood, fruitage bear.
The comforts of a future day
Will thus Affection's toil repay;
And the glad Parent fondly see
The Wisdom of the Nursery.