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The Infant's Delight: Poetry by Anonymous
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THE INFANT'S DELIGHT



[Illustration: THE MISTLETOE-SELLERS.]


[Illustration: THE DEAD ROBIN.]

[Illustration]



BLIND MAN'S BUFF.

When the win-ter winds are blow-ing,
And we ga-ther glad and gay,
Where the fire its light is throw-ing,
For a mer-ry game at play,
There is none that to my know-ing,--
And I've play-ed at games enough,--
Makes us laugh, and sets us glow-ing
Like a game at Blind-man's Buff.




THE DEAD ROBIN.

All through the win-ter, long and cold,
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