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THERE, beneath A plain blue stone, a gentle dalesman lies, From whom, in early childhood, was withdrawn The precious gift of hearing. He grew up From year to year in loneliness of soul; And this deep mountain valley was to him Soundless, with all its streams. The bird of dawn Did never rouse this cottager from sleep With startling summons; not for his delight The vernal cuckoo shouted; not for him Murmured the laboring bee.
'Mid stormy winds, The agitated scene before his eye Was silent as a picture; evermore
Were all things silent, wheresoe'er he moved.
Among the jocund reapers.
Were ready comrades whom he could not tire;
Of whose society the blameless man
Was never satiate. Their familiar voice,
Beguiled his leisure hours, and bestowed
Which all acknowledged. The dark winter night,
The powers of nature and a few short steps
And, at the touch of every wandering breeze,
ON A GIRL,
LEADING HER BLIND MOTHER THROUGH THE WOOD.*
THE green leaves, as we pass, Lay their light fingers on thee unaware, And by thy side the hazels cluster fair, And the low forest grass
Grows green and silken where the wood-paths wind; Alas for thee, dear mother! thou art blind!
The moon's new silver shell Trembles above thee, and the stars float up In the blue air, and the rich tulip's cup
Is pencilled passing well,
And the swift birds on glorious pinions flee ;-
And the kind looks of friends
Low to thine ear with duty unforgot ;-
But thou canst hear; and love
May richly on a human tone be poured,
A daughter's love may prove ; And while I speak thou knowest if I smile, Albeit thou canst not see my face the while.
Yes! thou canst hear, and He,
And 'tis a lesson to our hearts to know
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,
How many? Seven in all," she said,
And where are they? I pray you tell.
"Two of us in the churchyard lie,
You say that two at Conway dwell,
Yet ye are seven? I pray you tell,
Then did the little maid reply,
You run about, my little maid,
"Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied;
"Twelve steps or more from mother's door,
And they are side by side.
My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;