The wretched parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide;

But there was neither sound nor sight

To serve them for a guide.

At day-break on a hill they stood

That overlooked the Moor;

And thence they saw the Bridge of wood,

A furlong from their door.

They wept, and turning homeward, cried,

"In Heaven we all shall meet:"

When in the snow the mother spied The print of Lucy's feet.

Half breathless from the steep hill's edge They tracked the footmarks small;

And through the broken hawthorn-hedge,

And by the long stone-wall;

And then an open field they crossed:

The marks were still the same;

They tracked them on, nor ever lost;

And to the Bridge they came.

They followed from the snowy bank

Those footmarks, one by one,

Into the middle of the plank;

And further there were none !

Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living Child ;

That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome Wild.

O'er rough and smooth she trips along,

And never looks behind;

And sings a solitary song

That whistles in the wind.

VIII.

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.

Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;

And, in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea,

pray you tell,

Yet ye are seven! .I

Sweet Maid, how this may be."

Then did the little Maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree."

"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.

And often after sun-set, 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.