We Are Seven

A simple child...That lightly draws its breathAnd 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 airAnd she was wildly clad;Her eyes were fair, and very fair; Her beauty made me glad."Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may

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