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90 SONGS FOE CHILDHOOD.
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.
" And where are they, I pray you tell ?" She answered, " Seven are we ;
Aud 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 ?"
She had a rustic, woodland air,
Aud 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 ;
Aud, wondering, looked at me.
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 iu the church-yard laid,
Theu ye are only five."