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"But what's the Thorn? and what's the Pond?

"And what's the Hill of moss to her?

"And what's the creeping breeze that comes "The little Pond to stir ?"

I cannot tell but some will say


She hanged her baby on the tree;

Some say, she drowned it in the pond,

Which is a little step beyond;

But all and each agree,

The little babe was buried there,

Beneath that Hill of moss so fair.


I've heard, the moss is spotted red

With drops of that poor infant's blood:

But kill a new-born infant thus !

I do not think she could.

Some say, if to the Pond you go,

And fix on it a steady view,

The shadow of a babe you trace,

A baby and a baby's face,

And that it looks at you;

Whene'er you look on it, 'tis plain

The baby looks at you again.


And some had sworn an oath that she
Should be to public justice brought :
And for the little infant's bones

With spades they would have sought.
But then the beauteous Hill of moss
Before their eyes began to stir ;
And for full fifty yards around,

The grass it shook upon the ground;

But all do still aver

The little babe is buried there,

Beneath that Hill of moss so fair.



I cannot tell how this may be,
But plain it is, the Thorn is bound
With heavy tufts of moss, that strive
To drag it to the ground.

And this I know, full many a time,

When she was on the mountain high,
By day, and in the silent night,

When all the stars shone clear and bright,
That I have heard her cry,

"Oh misery! oh misery!

"O woe is me! oh misery!"


A simple child, dear brother Jim,
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

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Her hair was thick with many a curl

That cluster'd round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,

And she was wildly clad;

Her eyes were fair, and very



-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 church-yard lie,

"6 My sister and my brother,
"And in the church-yard cottage, I
"Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say

that two at Conway dwell,

"And two are gone to sea,

"Yet you are seven ; I pray you tell,

"Sweet Maid, how this may be ?"

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