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"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 churchyard lie,
My sister and my brother;

And, in the churchyard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,

Yet

ye are seven !—I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this may be?"

Then did the little maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the churchyard lie,
Beneath the churchyard tree."
"You run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the churchyard laid,
Then ye are only five."

"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"

The little maid replied,

"Twelve steps or more from

And they are side by side.

my

mother's door,

exquisite appreciation of natural beauty lies the chief charm of his poetry. His sonnets deserve to be far better known than they are as yet; and the steadily-increasing popularity of his works generally may be taken as an acknowledgment of their worth. Wordsworth succeeded Southey as poet laureate.]

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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."

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HEAR thee speak of the better land;
Thou callest its children a happy band.
Mother! oh, where is that radiant shore;

Shall we not seek it, and weep no more?

Is it where the flower of the orange blows,

And the fire-flies glance through the myrtle boughs?"
-"Not there, not there, my child!"

[Of the poetry of FELICIA HEMANS, Scott is related to have deplored that, with so many and such fair blossoms, it had yielded so little fruit. The criticism, though not devoid of truth, was severe Though Mrs. Hemans, unfortunately, never concentrated her great powers sufficiently to produce a poem displaying all her excellencies, she has achieved an undoubted right to a high rank among English poets. She died in 1835, aged 40.]

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"Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies?
Or amidst the green islands of glittering seas,
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,
And strange, bright birds, on their starry wings,
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?"
-"Not there, not there, my child!”

"Is it far away in some region old,
Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold;
Where the burning rays of the ruby shine,
And the diamond lights up the secret mine,
And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand?
Is it there, sweet mother, that better land?”
"Not there, not there, my child!"

"Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
Ear hath not heard its deep sound of joy ;
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair;
Sorrow and death may not enter there;
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom :
Far beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb,
-It is there, it is there, my child!"

MRS. HEMANS.

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[THOMAS CAMPBELL, one of the most distinguished among modern poets, was born at Glasgow, in 1777. At the early age of 22 he wrote his fine poem, the "Pleasures of Hope; " but it is upon his Odes and Ballads that his fame chiefly rests. Of these, the most universally appreciated are, "Ye Mariners of England," "Lord Ullin's Daughter," and the "Battle of the Baltic." Of the fight of Hohenlinden he was an eye-witness. He died in 1844.]

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