The old man still stood talking by my side; To give me human strength, by apt admonishment. My former thoughts returned: the fear that kills, "How is it that you live, and what is it you do?" He with a smile did then his words repeat; The waters of the pools where they abide. While he was talking thus, the lonely place, The old man's shape and speech-all troubled me; And soon with this he other matter blended, V. THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN. 1802. AT the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years; Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard In the silence of morning the song of the Bird. 'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees A mountain ascending, a vision of trees; Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade, VI. WE ARE SEVEN. A SIMPLE child That lightly draws its breath, I met a little cottage girl: She was eight years old, she said; She had a rustic woodland air, "Sisters and brothers, little maid, “How many? Seven in all,” she said, "And where are they? I pray you tell." "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." 1797. “ 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. "So in the church-yard 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." |