"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 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. 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 church-yard she was laid; 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 !" IX. ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS, SHOWING HOW THE PRACTICE OF LYING MAY BE TAUGHT. His face is fair and fresh to see; His limbs are cast in beauty's mould, And dearly he loves me. One morn we strolled on our dry walk, And held such intermitted talk My thoughts on former pleasures ran; A day it was when I could bear The green earth echoed to the feet From sunshine back to shade. Birds warbled round me every trace Of inward sadness had its charm; "Kilve," said I, 66 was a favoured place, And so is Liswyn farm." My boy was by my side, so slim And graceful in his rustic dress! And, as we talked, I questioned him, "Now tell me, had you rather be," I said, and took him by the arm, "On Kilve's smooth shore, by the green sea, Or here at Liswyn farm ?" In careless mood he look'd at me, "Now, little Edward, say why so; "For, here are woods, and green-hills warm: There surely must some reason be Why you would change sweet Liswyn farm For Kilve by the green sea." At this, my Boy hung down his head, His head he raised-there was in sight, |