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And fix on it a steady view,
The shadow of a babe you trace,
A baby and a baby's face,
And that it looks at you ;
Whene'er

you

look on it, 'tis plain The baby looks at you again.

XXII.

And some had sworn an oath that she
Should be to public justice brought;
And for the little infant's bones
With spades they would have sought.
But then the beauteous Hill of moss
Before their eyes began to stir ;
And for full fifty yards around,
The grass it shook upon the ground;

But all do still aver

The little babe is buried there,
Beneath that Hill of moss so fair,

XXIII.

I cannot tell how this

may

be: But plain it is, the Thorn is bound With heavy tufts of moss, that strive To drag it to the ground. And this I know, full many a time, When she was on the mountain high, By day, and in the silent night, When all the stars shone clear and bright, That I have heard her cry, “Oh misery! oh misery! Oh woe is me! oh misery !"

WE ARE SEVEN.

A simple child, dear brother Jim,
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 That clustered round her head.

a curl

She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad ;
Her eyes were fair, and

very
Her beauty made me glad.

fair;

“ 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.

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 you are seven ; I pray you tell,
Sweet Maid, how this may be ?"

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 in the church-yard 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;
And there upon the ground I sit
I sit and sing to them.

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