---A small child none could blame,
Lightly laughed with every breath,
Her smile could know no shame,
What should she know of death?
I asked the little smiling Girl:
She was seven years old, she said;
She danced and sang and with a twirl
Her hair clustered round her head.
“Sisters and brothers" I said,
"Why, how many may you be?”
“Seven in all,” she ran ahead,
And stopped to talk to me
“Where play they now? By your side?”
She answered, “Seven are we;
Two of us in York abide;
Another gets a degree.
“My sister and I do dwell,
In the house with my mother,
Near the churchyard where the bell
Sings loud for my two brothers.”
“You say two in York abide,
The other gets a degree
Yet ye are seven!” I cried
“Ye Sweet Maid, how may this be.”
Then did the little Maid reply,
“Seven boys and girls are we;
Two in yonder churchyard lie,
If you like you may come see.”
“You run about, my little Maid,
Your limbs are yet alive;
If two are in the churchyard laid,
Then ye are only five.”
"There they sleep, they sleep so deep"
The young little Maid replied,
“Each other they safely keep.
They are always side by side."
"I play games with rocks and dolls
They turn to princess gems;
There upon the ground I sit,
And I sing a song to them.
“Often when mother comes home
When it is still light and fair,
With a basket on a stone,
I can eat my supper there.
"Dear Andrew was first to leave;
Sick in bed he moaning lay,
Till God helped him I believe;
Quietly went he away.
“Then in the churchyard he stayed;
And, when the spring grass was dry,
All around his grave we played,
My brother Jesse and I.
“When flowers began to grow
I could run and I could slide,
Brother Jesse had to go,
And he lies by Andrew's side.”
“How many are you, then,” said I,
“If they two are in heaven?”
Quick was the little Maid’s reply,
“Oh Mister, 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!”
