They followed from the snowy bank
The footmarks, one by one,
Into the middle of the plank;
And further there were none !

-Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child;

That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild.

O'er rough and smooth she trips along,
And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind,

WE ARE SEVEN.

A SIMPLE child

That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage girl:

She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That 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?"
"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','

LUCY.

Beneath her father's roof, alone

SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways
Besid: the springs of Dove,

A maid whom there were none to praise,
And very few to love.

A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!

I travelled among unknown men,
In lands beyond the sea;
Nor, England! did I know till then
What love I bore to thee.

'Tis past, that melancholy dream!
Nor will I quit thy shore
A second time; for still I seem
To love thee more and more.

Among thy mountains did I feel

The joy of my desire;

And she I cherished turned her wheel
Beside an English fire.

Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed

The bowers where Lucy played; And thine is too the last green field That Lucy's eyes surveyed.

RUTH.

WHEN Ruth was left half-desolate,
Her father took another mate;
And Ruth, not seven years old,
A slighted child, at her own will
Went wandering over dale and hill,
In thoughtless freedom bold.

And she had made a pipe of straw,
And from that oaten pipe could draw
All sounds of winds and floods;
Had built a bower upon the green,
As if she from her birth had been
An infant of the woods,

She seemed to live; her thoughts her

own;

Herself her own delight:

Pleased with herself, nor sad, nor gay,
She passed her time; and in this way
Grew up to woman's height.

There came a youth from Georgia's shore,

A military casque he wore

With splendid feathers dressed;

He brought them from the Cherokees,
The feathers nodded in the breeze,
And made a gallant crest.

From Indian blood you deem him sprung
Ah! no, he spake the English tongue
And bore a soldier's name;
And, when America was free
From battle and from jeopardy,
He 'cross the ocean came.

With hues of genius on his cheek,
In finest tones the youth could speak.
-While he was yet a boy,

The moon, the glory of the sun,
And streams that murmur as they run,
Had been his dearest joy.

He was a lovely youth! I guess
The panther in the wilderness
Was not so fair as he ;

And, when he chose to sport and play,
No dolphin ever was so gay
Upon the tropic sea,

Among the Indians he had fought;
And with him many tales he brought
Gi pieasure and of fear;

Such tales as, told to any maid

By such a youth, in the green shade,
Were perilous to hear,

He told of girls, a happy rout!
Who quit their fold with dance and shou
Their pleasant Indian town,

To gather strawberries all day long;
Returning with a choral song
When daylight is gone down.

He spake of plants divine and st
That every hour their b