Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, "Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be?" "How many?- seven in all," she said; And wondering, looked at me. “And where are they, I pray you tell?" She answered, "Seven are we : And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea. “Two of us in the churchyard lie— Dwell near them with my mother." “You say that two at Conway dwell, Yet ye are seven!-I pray you tell, Then did the little maid reply, "You run about, my little maid, If two are in the churchyard laid, "Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied, "Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side. "The first that died was little Jane- And then she went away! "So in the churchyard she was laid; "And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side." "How many are you then," said I, "If they two are in heaven?" The little maiden did reply, “Oh, master, we are seven!" |