WE ARE SEVEN. A simple child, That lightly draws its breath, I met a little cottage Girl : She was eight years old, she said; 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, "You say that two at Conway dwell, Yet ye are seven !-I pray you tell, Then did the little Maid reply, "Seven boys and girls are we; Two of us in the churchyard lie, "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, 66 And they are side by side. My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem; And there upon the ground I sit- "And often after sunset, Sir, "The first that died was little Jane; Till God released her of her pain; "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, "How many are you, then," said I, 66 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 !" LUCY GRAY; OR, SOLITUDE. OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray: No mate, no comrade Lucy knew ; -The sweetest thing that ever grew You yet may spy the fawn at play, But the sweet face of Lucy Gray "To-night will be a stormy night- And take a lantern, Child, to light 66 That, Father! will I gladly do: 'Tis scarcely afternoon The Minster-clock has just struck two, And yonder is the Moon." At this the Father raised his hook, And snapped a faggot-band; He plied his work ;-and Lucy took The lantern in her hand. Not blither is the mountain roe: With many a wanton stroke Her feet disperse the powdery snow, The snow came on before its time: She wandered up and down; And many a hill did Lucy climb; But never reached the town. |