Athwart the concave of the dark blue dome,
Unseen, perchance above the power of sight-
An iron knell! with echoes from afar

Faint-and still fainter-as the cry with which
The wanderer accompanies her flight

Through the calm region, fades upon the ear,
Diminishing by distance till it seemed

To expire; yet from the abyss is caught again,
And yet again recovered!

WORDSWORTH.

SHE had been told that God made all the stars
That twinkled up in Heaven; and now she stood.
Watching the coming of the twilight on,

As if it were a new and perfect world,
And this were its first eve. She stood alone
By the low window, with the silken lash
Of her soft eye upraised, and her sweet mouth
Half parted with the new and strange delight

THE CHILD AND THE STAR.

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Of beauty that she could not comprehend,
And had not seen before. The purple folds
Of the low sunset clouds, and the blue sky
That looked so still and delicate above,
Fill'd her young heart with gladness; and the eve
Stole on with its deep shadows, and she still
Stood looking at the west with that half-smile,
As if a pleasant thought were at her heart.
Presently, in the edge of the last tint
Of sunset, where the blue was melted in
To the faint golden mellowness, a star
Stood suddenly. A laugh of wild delight
Burst from her lips, and, putting up her hands,
Her simple thought broke forth expressively-
"Father! dear father! God has made a star!"

WILLIS.

K

"WE ARE SEVEN."

A SIMPLE child,

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 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.

WE ARE SEVEN.

"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?"

This 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 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

I sit and sing to them.

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