Phebe, The Blackberry Girl | Page 5

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?
How
many? Seven in all, she said,
And wondering looked at me.
[Illustration]

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 mother's door,
And they are side by side.
My stockings there I often knit.
My 'kerchief there I hem;
[Illustration: The Churchyard.]
And there upon the ground I sit--
sit and sing to them.
And often after sunset, sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little
porringer,
And eat my supper there.
The first that died was little Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God
released her of her pain;
And then she went away.
So in the churchyard 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.

How many are you, then, said I,
If they two are in Heaven?
The
little maiden did reply,
O master! we are seven.
But they are dead, those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!

'Twas throwing words away; for still
The little maid would have her
will,
And said, Nay, we are seven.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE IDLE BOY
Thomas was an idle lad,
And loung'd about all day;
And though he
many a lesson had.
He minded nought but play.
He only car'd for top or ball,
Or marbles, hoop or kite:
But as for
learning, that was all
Neglected by him quite.
[Illustration: The Idle Boy.]
In vain his mothers kind advice
In vain his master's care;
He
followed ev'ry idle vice,
And learnt to curse and swear!
And think you, when he grew a man,
He prospered in his ways?
No;
wicked courses never can
Bring good and happy days.
Without a shilling in his purse,
Or cot to call his own,
Poor Thomas
grew from bad to worse,
And harden'd as a stone.
[Illustration]
And oh, it grieves me much to write
His melancholy end;
Then let
us leave the dreadful sight,
And thoughts of pity send.
But may we this important truth
Observe and ever hold:
"All those

who're idle in their youth
Will suffer when they're old."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CASABIANCA
The boy stood on the burning deck,
Whence all but him had fled!

The flame that lit the battle's wreck,
Shone round him o'er the dead.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A
creature of heroic blood,
A proud though childlike form.
The flames roiled on--he would not go,
Without his father's word;

That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.
He called aloud--Say, father, say
If yet my task is done?
He knew
not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.
Speak, father! once again he cried,
If I may yet be gone;
And but
the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames rolled on.
Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair;
And
looked from that lone post of death
In still, yet brave despair,
And shouted but once more aloud
My father! must I stay!
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires
made way.
They wrapt the ship in splendor wild,
They caught the flag on high,

And streamed above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.
There came a burst of thunder sound:
The boy--O, where was he?

Ask of the winds, that far around
With fragments strewed the sea--

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part;

But the noblest thing that perished there
Was that young faithful
heart.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAR.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star;
How I wonder what you are!
Up above
the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then
you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
Then the traveller in the dark
Thanks you for your tiny spark!
He
could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.
In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep

For you never shut your eye
Till the sun is in the sky.
As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveller in the dark,

Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
[Illustration]
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UNCLE THOMAS' STORIES
FOR
GOOD