belen Daria Williams.
1762-1827.

WHILST THEE I SEEK.

Whilst Thee I seek, protecting Power,
Be my vain wishes stilled!
And may this consecrated hour

With better hopes be filled.

Thy love the power of thought bestowed;
To Thee my thoughts would soar :
Thy mercy o'er my life has flowed,
That mercy I adore.

In each event of life, how clear
Thy ruling hand I see!

Each blessing to my soul more dear,
Because conferred by Thee.

In every joy that crowns my days,
In every pain I bear,

My heart shall find delight in praise,

Or seek relief in prayer.

When gladness wings my favored hour,
Thy love my thoughts shall fill;
Resigned, when storms of sorrow lower,
My soul shall meet Thy will.

My lifted eye, without a tear,
The gathering storm shall see ;
My steadfast heart shall know no fear;
That heart shall rest on Thee.

William Wordsworth.

1770-1850.

THE DAFFODILS.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host of golden daffodils,

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay ;
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee ;

A poet could not but be gay

In such a jocund company;

I gazed and gazed-but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought;

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills;
And dances with the daffodils.

WE ARE SEVEN.

-A simple child,

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 ; 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 look'd 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 churchyard lie,

My sister and my brother; And in the churchyard cottage I

Dwell near them with my mother."

66 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?"

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 kerchief there I hem ;
And there upon the ground I sit—
I sit and sing to them.

"And often after sunset, sir,
When it is light and fair,

I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.

The first that died was little Jane ;
In bed she moaning lay,

Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.

"So in the churchyard she was laid;
And when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we play'd,
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,

66

And he lies by her side."

How many are you, then?" said I,

"If they two are in heaven?"

The little maiden did reply:

"Oh, master, we are seven !”

But they are dead-those two are dead,
Their spirits are in Heaven!"

'T was throwing words away, for still
The little maid would have her will,
And said: "Nay, we are seven !"

TO THE RIVER DUDDON.

I thought of thee, my partner and my guide,
As being passed away-vain sympathies !
For backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,

I see what was, and is, and will abide :

Still glides the stream, and shall not cease to glide ;