
Lesson:
- 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.
- 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.
- ‘Two of us in the churchyard lie,
My sister and my brother;
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.’
- 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;
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.
- ‘The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her from 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.’
- ‘How many are you, then?’ said I,
‘If they two are in heaven?’
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!’
‘T was throwing words away: for still
The little maid would have her will,
And said, ‘Nay, we are seven.’
William Wordsworth.
DEFINITIONS
- Clustered: Hung in bunches.
- Rustic: Country-like.
- Kerchief: Handkerchief.
- Porringer: A small dish for soup or porridge.
- Released: Freed, relieved.

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