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“ Two of us in the churchyard lie,
My sister and my brother ;
Dwell near them with my mother.”
“You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea ;
Sweet maid, how this may be ?”.
Then did the little maid reply,
“Seven boys and girls are we; Two of us in the churchyard lie,
Beneath the churchyard tree.”
“ You run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
Then ye are only five."
“Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied ;
[door, “ Twelve steps or more from my mother's
And they are side by side.
“ My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem ;
"ni otten iiter cunset, sir,
Vienitis tinc iar, I ke nis me orrger,
Ina at 1 surper here.
14 The Srst bat ied was sister Jane ;
In sed she moarng lay,
And then she went away.
“So in the churchyard 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
And I could run and slide; [snow, 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,
“Oh, master! we are seven."
But ther are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are ir hearts" "I was throwing words amar: orci Tie irae maand we are her vil.
TO A SKYLARK.
Up with me! up with me into the clouds !
For thy song, Lark, is strong :
Singing! Singing !
I have walked through wildernesses dreary,
Joyous as morning,
Happy, happy Liver,
Joy and jollity be with us both !
Alas ! my journey, rugged and uneven,
THE FEMALE VAGRANT.
My father was a good and pious man,
Can I forget our croft and plot of corn,
espied : The cowslip-gathering in June's dewy prime : The swans that, with white chests upheaved in
pride, Rushing and racing came to meet me at the
The staff I yet remember which upbore
fire : When market morning came, the neat attire With which, though bent on haste, myself I
decked : Our watchful house-dog, that would tease and tire The stranger, till his barking-fit I checked : The red-breast, known for years, which at my
The suns of twenty summers danced along, Ah! little marked how fast they rolled away ;