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 sun-set, 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!"