LUCY GRAY; OR, SOLITUDE. OFT i had heard of Lucy Gray: No mate, no comrade Lucy knew; She dwelt on a wide moor, -The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door! You yet may spy the fawn at play, The hare upon the green; But the sweet face of Lucy Gray "To-night will be a stormy night- "That, father! will I gladly do: 'Tis scarcely afternoon The minster-clock has just struck two, And yonder is the moon!" At this the father raised his hook, He plied his work ;-and Lucy took Not blither is the mountain roe: Her feet disperse the powdery snow The storm came on before its time: She wandered up and down; And many a hill did Lucy climb; The wretched parents all that night Went shouting far and wide; But there was neither sound nor sight At day-break on a hill they stood That overlooked the moor; And thence they saw the bridge of wood, A furlong from their door. They wept-and, turning homeward, cried, "In heaven we all shall meet:" -When in the snow the mother spied Half breathless from the steep hill's edge And then an open field they crossed: They followed from the snowy bank And further there were none ! -Yet some maintain that to this day That you may see sweet Lucy Gray O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind. WE ARE SEVEN -A SINFLE child, That lightly draws its breath, I met a little cottage girl: She was eight "ears old, she said; She had a rustic, woodland air, Her eyes were fair, and very fair; "Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be?" "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. "And who are they? I pray you, tell." Two of us in the church-yard lie, "You say that two at Conway dwell Yet ye are seven!-I pray you tell, Then did the little maid reply, "You run about, my little maid, If two are in the church-yard laid, "Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied, "Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side. |