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: 10
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. 20
"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; 30
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. 40
"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, 50
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." 60
"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!"
1798.