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I cannot tell how this may be,
But plain it is, the thorn is bound
With heavy tufts of moss, that strive
And this I know, full many a time,
When all the stars shone clear and bright,
"Oh misery! oh misery!
"O woe is me! oh misery!"
WE ARE SEVEN.
A simple child, dear brother Jim,
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.
She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair,
"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 church-yard lie, 66 '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 ;
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..
"And there upon the ground I sit
"I sit and sing to them.
"And often after sunset, Sir,
"When it is light and fair,
"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,
"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."