Young and So Wise

I read a play by Wordsworth.

———A simple Child,

That lightly draws its breath,

And feels its life in every limb,

What should it know of death?

It's name is We Are Seven.

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.

I read it again.

She had a rustic, woodland air,

And she was wildly clad:

Her eyes were fair, and very fair;

—Her beauty made me glad.

Once more after that.

“Sisters and brothers, little Maid,

How many may you be?”

“How many? Seven in all,” she said,

And wondering looked at me.

I sat and I stared and I thought.

“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.

"This is extraordinary, and

“Two of us in the church-yard lie,

My sister and my brother;

And, in the church-yard cottage, I

Dwell near them with my mother.”

this is special."

“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.”

A quiet moment for the deceased.

Then did the little Maid reply,

“Seven boys and girls are we;

Two of us in the church-yard lie,

Beneath the church-yard tree.”

Thoughts of my father's passing.

“You run about, my little Maid,

Your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the church-yard laid,

Then ye are only five.”

Irritation at first toward the

“Their graves are green, they may be seen,”

The little Maid replied,

“Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door,

And they are side by side.

ignorant who deny a soul its reality.

“My stockings there I often knit,

My kerchief there I hem;

And there upon the ground I sit,

And sing a song to them.

But then understanding and 

“And often after sun-set, Sir,

When it is light and fair,

I take my little porringer,

And eat my supper there.

compassion.

“The first that dies was sister Jane;

In bed she moaning lay,

Till God released her of her pain;

And then she went away.

Gratitude for the clarity of

“So in the church-yard she was laid;

And, when the grass was dry,

Together round her grave we played,

My brother John and I.

this little Maid. A total of seven

“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.”

thank you's offered for her steadfastness-- 

“How many are you, then,” said I,

“If they two are in heaven?”

Quick was the little Maid’s reply,

“O Master! we are seven.”

--six from her siblings,

“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!”

and one from me.

    I realized why this poem affected me so deeply; I relate entirely to this little girl.  I lost my father when I was ten months old, but because of my religious faith, the influence of my family, and a strong personal sense of how universal everything is, I have always maintained a firm defense of the ongoing existence of my deceased parent.  I wondered after reading this if part of the reason, too, that I do have and always have had such strong convictions about life after death has to do with the death occurring when I was so young.  I wonder if these convictions would have been the same had the death that shaped my view on death been experienced in young adulthood.  A friend of mine who I shared this poem with said it resonated very much with her, she coming from a family of seven herself.  Paul Bills also mentioned that he got to read this poem in the site of its original creation, and that it was actually two sisters on the same trip as him that read the poem out loud while in his presence -- they had lost another sister.  He explained what a special experience that was for him.