houghts within me rise,
When I behold afar,
Suspended in the evening skies
The shield of that red star.

O star of strength! I see thee stand
And smile upon my pain;
Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand,
And I am strong again.

Within my breast there is no light,
But the cold light of stars;
I give the first watch of the night
To the red planet Mars. {453}

The star of the unconquered will.
He rises in my breast
Serene, and resolute, and still.
And calm, and self-possessed.

And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art
That readest this brief psalm,
As one by one thy hopes depart,
Be resolute and calm.

O fear not in a world like this,
And thou shalt know ere long,
Know how sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong.
--_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_.

By permission of Houghton, Mifflin & CD.

{454}

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.

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 who 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." {455}

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 my mother's door,
And they are side by side.

"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchiefs there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit
And sing a song to them.

"And often after sunset, sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer
And eat