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THERE, beneath A plain blue stone, a gentle dalesman lies, From whom, in early childhood, was withdrawn The precious gift of hearing. He grew up From year to year in loneliness of soul ; And this deep mountain valley was to him Soundless, with all its streams. The bird of dawn Did never rouse this cottager
from sleep With startling summons ; not for his delight The vernal cuckoo shouted; not for him Murmured the laboring bee. 'Mid stormy winds, The agitated scene before his eye Was silent as a picture ; evermore Were all things silent, wheresoe'er he moved. Yet, by the solace of his own pure thoughts Upheld, he duteously pursued the round Of rural labors ; the steep mountain side Ascended with his staff and faithful dog ; The plough he guided, and the scythe he swayed; And the ripe corn before his sickle fell Among the jocund reapers.
His books Were ready comrades whom he could not tire ; Of whose society the blameless man Was never satiate. Their familiar voice, Even to old age, with unabated charm,
Beguiled his leisure hours, and bestowed
powers of nature : and a few short steps
ON A GIRL,
LEADING HER BLIND MOTHER THROUGH THE WOOD.*
THE green leaves, as we pass, Lay their light fingers on thee unaware, And by thy side the hazels cluster fair, And the low forest grass
Grows green and silken where the wood-paths wind; Alas for thee, dear mother! thou art blind!
The moon's new silver shell Trembles above thee, and the stars float up In the blue air, and the rich tulip's cup
Is pencilled passing well,
And the swift birds on glorious pinions flee ;-
And the kind looks of friends
Low to thine ear with duty unforgot ;-
But thou canst hear; and love
May richly on a human tone be poured,
A daughter's love may prove ; And while I speak thou knowest if I smile, Albeit thou canst not see my face the while.
Yes! thou canst hear, and He,
And 'tis a lesson to our hearts to know
WE ARE SEVEN.*
I MET a little cottage girl;
She was eight years old, she said;
She had a rustic, woodland air,
Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many? Seven in all," she said,
And where are they? I pray you tell.
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 ; If two are in the churchyard laid, Then ye are only five. “ Their graves are green, they may be seen,” The little maid replied ; “ Twelve steps or more from mother's door, And they are side by side. “My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem ;