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Yet, tarry not! the gentle spring
THE POND AND THE BROOK.
"NEIGHBOUR Brook," said the Pond one day, "Why do you flow so fast away? Sultry June is hastening on, And then your water will all be gone."
"Nay, my friend," the Brook replied,
Summer came, and blazing June
But the Brook with vigour flowed
WE ARE SEVEN.
I MET a little cottage girl :
She was eight years old she said;
She had a rustic woodland air,
"Sisters and brothers, little maid
"And where are they? I pray you tell," She answerd." "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
Two of us in the churchyard lie,
"You say that two at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea,
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,
"Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied, [door,
"Twelve steps or more from my Mother's And they are side by side.
My stockings there I often knit,
And often after sunset, Sir,
The first that died was sister Jane;
Till God released her of her pain;
So in the churchyard she was laid;
And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
"How many are you, then," said I "If they two are in heaven?"
Quick was the little maid's reply,
"O master, we are seven.
"But they are dead, those two are dead!
THE WHITE DOVE.
THERE sitteth a dove so white and fair,
All on the lily spray;
And she listeneth when to our Saviour dear, The little children pray.
Lightly she spreads her friendly wings,