--A Simple Child,
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 clustered round her head.
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.
"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,
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 ye 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,
And
sing a song 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 sister 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, when the grass was 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."
"How many are you, then," said I,
"If they two
are in heaven?"
Quick was the little Maid's 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!"