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We Are Seven 

--A simple child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death?

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.

And, in the churchyard 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."

Two of us in the churchyard lie, beneath the churchyard tree."

"You run about, my little maid, your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the churchyard laid, then ye are only five."

"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.

Till God released her of her pain; 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 snow and I could run and slide,

My brother John was forced to go, and he lies by her side."

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!"