Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

22

WE ARE SEVEN.

18. WE ARE SEVEN.

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."

WE ARE SEVEN.

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 you are only five."

"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"
The little Maid replied,

23

"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.

£4

A SONG OF SPRING.

"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.'

[ocr errors]

"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!”

WORDSWORTH.

19. A SONG OF SPRING.

WHEN Swelling buds their sheaths forsake-
Sing, cuckoo, sing in flowering tree-
And yellow daffodils awake,

The virgin Spring is fair to see.

When streams through banks of daisies run—
Sing, cuckoo, sing in flowering tree—
And sky-larks hymn the rising sun,

Spring holds her court in grove and lea.

When cowslips load with sweets the air—
Sing, cuckoo, sing in flowering tree-
Spring braids with flowers her golden hair,
And bids the mating birds agree.

HARRIS.

THE MAY QUEEN.

25

20. THE MAY QUEEN.

You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year; Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest merriest day For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

There's many a black black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine;

There's Margaret and Mary, there's Kate and Caroline;

But none so fair as little Alice in all the land they say,

So I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake, If you do not call me loud, when the day begins to break : But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands

gay,

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green,

And you'll be there, too, mother, to see me made the Queen; For the shepherd lads on every side 'ill come from far away, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

The honeysuckle round the porch has wov'n its wavy bowers, And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckooflowers,

And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray,

And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow-grass, And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass; There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the live-long day, And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

D

26

THE DIVINE IMAGE.

All the valley, mother, 'ill be fresh and green and still,
And the cowship and the crowfoot are over all the hill,
And the rivulet in the flowery dale 'ill merrily glance and play,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o'
the May.

So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;

To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year; To-morrow 'ill be of all the year the maddest merriest day, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

TENNYSON.

21. THE DIVINE IMAGE.

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
All pray in their distress;
And, to these virtues of delight,
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is God, our Father dear;
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is man, His child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity a human face,

And Love, the Human Form Divine,
And Peace, the Human dress.

Then every man of every clime,
That prays in his distress,

Prays to the Human Form Divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace."

BLAKE,

« ZurückWeiter »