Puslapio vaizdai
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WE ARE SEVEN.

A simple child, dear brother Jim,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in

every

limb, What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage girl,
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That cluster'd round her head.

a

She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair,
—Her beauty made me glad.

« Sisters and brothers, little maid,
“ How many may you be ?"
How many ? seven in all," she said,
And wondering looked at me.

ri 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.

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“ Two of us in the church-yard lie,

My sister and my brother,

And in the church-yard cottage, I “ Dwell near them with

my

mother."

" You say that two at Conway dwell,
" And two are gone to sea,
Yet
you are seven;

I
pray you

tell « Sweet Maid, how this may be?".

Then did the little Maid reply,
“ Seven boys and girls are we;
« Two of us in the church-yard lie,
“ 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.

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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."

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How many are you then," said I, If they two are in Heaven?" The little Maiden did reply, ( O Master! we are seven."

“ 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!”

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