File:The family library of British poetry from Chaucer to the present time. (1350-1878.) (1878) (14578357458).jpg

Identifier: familylibraryofb00fiel (find matches)
Title: The family library of British poetry from Chaucer to the present time. (1350-1878.)
Year: 1878 (1870s)
Authors: Fields, James Thomas, 1817-1881 Whipple, Edwin Percy, 1819-1886, joint ed
Subjects: English poetry
Publisher: Boston, Houghton, Osgood, and company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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oe:With many a wanton strokeHer feet disperse tiie powdery snow.That rises up like smoke. The storm came on before its time :She wandered up and down ;And many a hill did Lucy climb.But never reached the town. The wretched parents all that nightWent slioutyig far and wide ;But there was neither sound nor sightTo serve tiiem for a guide. At daybreak on the hill they stoodThat overlooked tlie moor;And thence they saw the bridge of wood,A furlong from their door. Tliey wept, and, turning homeward, cried, Li heaven we all shall meet ; —WHicn in the snow the mother spiedThe print of Lucys feet. Then downwards from the steep hills edgeThey tracked the footmarks small;And through tlie broken iiawthorn-hedge,And by the long stone-wall; And then an open field tliey crossed:The marks were still the same;They tracked them on, nor ever lost;And to t!ie bridge they eame. They followed from the snowy bankThose footnuirks, one by one,Lito the middle of the i)lank ;And furtiier there were none ! -^
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^i^^^^-^-.-^w--^^ WE ARE SEVEN.— LOUISA. 579 -6) — Yet some maintain that to tbis dayShe is a living child;That you may see sweet Lucy GrayUpon the lonesome wild. Oer rough and smooth she trips along,And never looks behind ;And sings a solitary songThat whistles in the wind. 1799. ■WE ABE SEVEN.* A SIMPLE child.That lighlly draws its breath,And feels its lite in every limb.What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage girl:She was eiglit years old, she said ;Her hair was thick with many a curlThat 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 y 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,Mj sister and my brother;And, in the churchyard cottage, IDwell near t

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