--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!"
