Who would not lend a sympathizing sigh,
To hear yon infant's pity-moving cry?
That feeble sob, unlike the new-born note,
Which came with vigour from the op'ning throat;
When air and light first rush'd on lungs and eyes,
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And there was life and spirit in the cries;
Now an abortive, faint attempt to weep
Is all we hear; sensation is asleep.
The boy was healthy, and at first express'd