Then did the little Maid reply, "Seven boys and girls are we ; "Beneath the church-yard tree." "You run about, my little maid, "Your limbs they are alive; "If two are in the church-yard laid, "Then ye are only five." "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. "My stockings there I often knit, "My 'kerchief there I hem; "And there upon the ground I sit— "I sit and sing to them. "And often after sunset, Sir, "When it is light and fair, "I take my little porringer, "And eat my supper there. "The first that died was little Jane ; "In bed she moaning lay, "Till God released her of her pain, "And then she went away. "So in the church-yard she was laid, "And all the summer dry, Together round her grave we played, My brother John and I. "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." H "How many are you then," said I, "If they two are in Heaven?" The little Maiden did reply, "But they are dead; those two are dead! "Their spirits are in heaven!" 'Twas throwing words away; for still The little Maid would have her will, And said, "Nay, we are seven!" 1 LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING. I heard a thousand blended notes, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts To her fair works did nature link Through primrose-tufts, in that sweet bower. The periwinkle trail'd its wreathes; And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopp'd and play'd: The budding twigs spread out their fan, And I must think, do all I can, That there was pleasure there. If I these thoughts may not prevent, What man has made of man? |