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 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 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; i
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 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 sun-set, 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.
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?"
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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