We returned after a few days from a delightful tour, of which I have many pleasant, and some of them droll enough, recollections. We returned by Dulverton to Alfoxden. "The Ancient Mariner" grew and grew till it became too important for our first object, which was limited to our expectation of five pounds; and we began to talk of a volume which was to consist, as Mr. Coleridge has told the world, of Poems chiefly on natural subjects taken from common life, but looked at, as much as might be, through an imaginative medium. Accordingly I wrote "The Idiot Boy", "Her eyes are wild", etc., "We are Seven", "The Thorn", and some others. To return to "We are Seven", the piece that called forth this note, I composed it while walking in the grove at Alfoxden. My friends will not deem it too trifling to relate, that while walking to and fro I composed the last stanza first, having begun with the last line. When it was all but finished, I came in and recited it to Mr. Coleridge and my sister, and said, "A prefatory stanza must be added, and I should sit down to our little tea-meal with greater pleasure if my task was finished." I mentioned in substance what I wished to be expressed, and Coleridge immediately threw off the stanza, thus;
A little child, dear brother Jem,
I objected to the rhyme, "dear brother Jem," as being ludicrous; but we all enjoyed the joke of hitching in our friend James Tobin"s name, who was familiarly called Jem. He was the brother of the dramatist; and this reminds me of an anecdote which it may be worth while here to notice. The said Jem got a sight of the "Lyrical Ballads" as it was going through the press at Bristol, during which time I was residing in that city. One evening he came to me with a grave face, and said, "Wordsworth, I have seen the volume that Coleridge and you are about to publish. There is one poem in it which I earnestly entreat you will cancel, for, if published, it will make you everlastingly ridiculous."
I answered, that I felt much obliged by the interest he took in my good name as a writer, and begged to know what was the unfortunate piece he alluded to. He said, "It is called "We are Seven"." "Nay,"
said I, "that shall take its chance, however"; and he left me in despair. I have only to add, that in the spring [A] of 1841, I revisited Goodrich Castle, not having seen that part of the Wye since I met the little girl there in 1793. It would have given me greater pleasure to have found in the neighbouring hamlet traces of one who had interested me so much, but that was impossible, as unfortunately I did not even know her name. The ruin, from its position and features, is a most impressive object. I could not but deeply regret that its solemnity was impaired by a fantastic new Castle set up on a projection of the same ridge, as if to show how far modern art can go in surpa.s.sing all that could be done by antiquity and nature with their united graces, remembrances, and a.s.sociations. I could have almost wished for power, so much the contrast vexed me, to blow away Sir----Meyrick"s impertinent structure and all the fopperies it contains.--I. F.]
The "structure" referred to is Goodrich Court, built in 1828 by Sir Samuel Rush Meyrick--a collector of ancient armour, and a great authority on the subject--mainly to receive his extensive private collection. The armour has been removed from Goodrich to the South Kensington Museum. "We are Seven" was placed by Wordsworth among his "Poems referring to the Period of Childhood."--Ed.
THE POEM
--A simple Child, [1]
That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death? [B]
I met a little cottage Girl: 5 She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That cl.u.s.tered round her head.
She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad: 10 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, 15 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. 20
"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."
"You say that two at Conway dwell, 25 And two are gone to sea, Yet ye [2] are seven! I pray you tell, Sweet Maid, how this may be."
Then did the little Maid reply, "Seven boys and girls are we; 30 Two of us in the church-yard lie, Beneath the church-yard tree."
"You run about, my little Maid, Your limbs they are alive; If two are in the church-yard laid, 35 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. 40
"My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem; And there upon the ground I sit, And sing a song to them. [3]
"And often after sun-set, Sir, 45 When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer, And eat my supper there.
"The first that died was sister Jane; [4]
In bed she moaning lay, 50 Till G.o.d released her of her pain; And then she went away.
"So in the church-yard she was laid; And, when the gra.s.s was dry, [5]
Together round her grave we played, 55 My brother John and I.
"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." 60
"How many are you, then," said I, "If they two are in heaven?"
Quick was the little Maid"s reply, [6]
"O Master! we are seven."
"But they are dead; those two are dead! 65 Their spirits are in heaven!"
"Twas throwing words away; for still The little Maid would have her will, And said, "Nay, we are seven!"
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1815.
A simple child, dear brother Jim, 1798.]
[Variant 2:
1815.
... you ... 1798.]
[Variant 3:
1836.
I sit and sing to them. 1798.]
[Variant 4:
1836.
... little Jane; 1798.]
[Variant 5: