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GRANDE WORDSWORTH!

Posted by Jayanti Dutta em 20/08/2010

William Wordsworth

 

We Are Seven

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-A Simple Child,

That lightly draws its breath,

And feels its life in every limb,

What should it know of death?

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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.

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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.

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“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.

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“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.”

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“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.”

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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.”

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“You run above, my little Maid,

Your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the church-yard laid,

Then ye are only five.”

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“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.

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“My stockings there I often knit,

My kerchief there I hem;

And there upon the ground I sit,

And sing a song to them.

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“And often after sun-set, Sir,

When it is light and fair,

I take my little porringer,

And eat my supper there.

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“The first that died was sister Jane;

In bed she moaning lay,

Till God released her of her pain;

And then she went away.

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“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.

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“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.”

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“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.”

.

“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!”

 

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LATA MANGESHKAR: “VOA, PÁSSARO MEU”

Posted by Jayanti Dutta em 18/08/2010

Posted in Lata Mangeshkar | Com as etiquetas : | 2 Comments »