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"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 little Jane:
In bed she moaning lay,

Till God released her of her pain;

And then she went away.

"So in the churchyard she was laid; And, all the summer 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 ?" The little maiden did reply,

"O master! we are seven."

"But they are dead; those two are dead!

Their spirits are in Heaven!"

'Twas throwing words away; for still

The little maid would have her will,

And said, "Nay, we are seven!"

WORDSWORTH.

THE CHILD'S FIRST GRIEF.

29

THE CHILD'S FIRST GRIEF.

"OH! call my brother back to me!

I cannot play alone;

The Summer comes, with flower and bee-
Where is my brother gone?

"The butterfly is glancing bright
Across the sunbeam's track;

I care not now to chase its flight-
Oh! call my brother back!

"The flowers run wild-the flowers we sow'd

Around our garden tree;

Our vine is drooping with its load

Oh! call him back to me!"

"He would not hear thy voice, fair child;

He may not come to thee;

The face that once like Spring-time smiled,
On earth no more thou 'lt see.

"A rose's brief bright life of joy,
Such unto him was given;
Go-thou must play alone, my boy!
Thy brother is in Heaven."

"And has he left his birds and flowers?

And must I call in vain ?

And through the long, long summer hours,
Will he not come again?

"And by the brook and in the glade Are all our wanderings o'er?

Oh! while my brother with me play'd,

Would I had loved him more!"

MRS. HEMANS.

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