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 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?
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.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE IDLE BOY
Thomas was an idle lad,
And loung'd about all day;
And though he many a lesson had.
He minded nought but play.