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MY BABY'S SHOE.
My one, sweet, precious baby girl, With eyes of deepest blue—The little feet are cold and still That wore this pretty shoe.
The waxen hands are folded now, No more to grasp my dress;The childish lips that death had kissed I never more shall press.
I lift my eyes to heaven, and feel That she is happy there;But tears fall on the little shoe My baby used to wear.
