Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/85

25 So in the church-yard 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!"