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Insensible to all relief

Sat the poor girl, and forth did send
Sob after sob, as if her grief
Could never, never have an end.

"My child, in Durham do you dwell?' She checked herself in her distress, And said, "My name is Alice Fell; I'm fatherless and motherless.

And I to Durham, Sir, belong."
Again, as if the thought would choke
Her very heart, her grief grew strong;
And all was for her tattered cloak !

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The chaise drove on; our journey's end
Was nigh; and, sitting by my side,
As if she had lost her only friend
She wept, nor would be pacified.

Up to the tavern-door we post ;
Of Alice and her grief I told;
And I gave money to the host,
To buy a new cloak for the old.

"And let it be of duffil grey,

As warm a cloak as man can sell!" Proud creature was she the next day, The little orphan, Alice Fell!

WE ARE SEVEN.*

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.

*This was, perhaps, the most popular of Mr. Wordsworth's early poems. It was written at Alfoxden, Somersetshire, in the spring of 1798. The little girl who is the heroine, Mr. W. met within the area of Goderich Castle, in 1793. The last stanza was the first composed.

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 there upon the ground I sit-
I sit and sing to them.-Edit. 1815.

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 !"

* And all the summer dry.-Edit. 1815.

ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS,*

'Retine vim istam, falsa enim dicam, si coges.'

EUSEBIUS.

I HAVE a boy of five years old;

His face is fair and fresh to see';

His limbs are cast in beauty's mould,
And dearly he loves me.

One morn we strolled on our dry walk,
Our quiet home all full in view,
And held such intermitted talk
As we are wont to do.

My thoughts on former pleasures ran;
I thought of Kilve's delightful shore,
Our pleasant home when spring began,
A long, long year before.

A day it was when I could bear
Some fond regrets to entertain; †
With so much happiness to spare,
I could not feel a pain.

The green earth echoed to the feet

Of lambs that bounded through the glade,

*In the Edition of 1815 there was the sub-title, "Showing how the practice of lying may be taught." For this the Latin motto, which did not then appear, was afterwards substituted. The boy was Mr. Basil Montagu's son, who lived under Mr. Wordsworth's care, at Alfoxden, in

1797.

To think-and think-and think again.-Edit. 1815.

This, and the succeeding five lines, are not in the Edition of 1815. There are also several trifling alterations.

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