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On the Birth of Audrey Lorene Sparling Lazarus

A child is born, a tiny girl,

No hair just yet to comb and curl.

Who will she be, what will she do?

With eyes of brown or green or blue?

Will she be short or thin and tall?

Perhaps she’ll learn to throw a ball?

So little now, we can but guess.

The thrill of her first party dress

Will she dance, perhaps ballet?

Or go the strong athletic way?

Will she be expert in the arts?

Or sing or paint or play great parts?

Will ivy schools enhance her knowledge?

Might she not need to go to college?

Will she love and follow dreams?

Climb our mountains, fish our streams?

Write our books, critique our art?

Strive to end the works we start?

What wondrous things might she invent?

Or could she wind up president?

Or might she someday save the earth?

Or lift mankind through childbirth?

A child is born, a tiny girl,

An ice cream cone, a tilt-a-whirl,

A life to live, a frosting swirl,

And now to watch her life unfurl.

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