"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 have 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,
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 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 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,
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,
And sing a song to them.

"And often after sunset, Sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my porringer,
And eat my supper there.

"The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.

"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.

"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."

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

I know that "We Are Seven" by William Wordsworth is a pretty lengthy poem to include here, but I've declared it my favorite that we read during our study of the Romantics. In the poem, the narrator comes across a young, country girl who is one of seven children- or so she claims. While the narrator is talking to her about her brothers and sisters, he learns that two of them are dead and buried in the church-yard next to her house. In the narrator's adult, rational mind, this means that she is only one of five children, not seven. To the child, she is one of seven! This poem examines death- does the little girl understand that her brother and sister are dead (i.e, not living)? I believe that she does understand that they are dead and can't be there with her physically anymore, but to her death doesn't mean that she can't still interact with them- eat dinner with them, or go knit near them, etc. The girl isn't concerned with the restrictions of being rational, a lesson that I believe the narrator can learn from.

I recently found out that my favorite teacher from high school died- Mr. Ule taught Honors and AP Chemistry at my high school for over thirty years, and retired the year that I graduated. He taught my mother when she was a student at the same school, and used to refer to me as "Polly Jr." during class. He was a fantastic teacher and really inspired his students to enjoy learning not only Chemistry but other subjects as well. When I was taking a look through my notes and rereading "We Are Seven," I couldn't help but think about how his loss will be felt throughout my hometown.

RIP Mr. Mark Joseph Ule (December 4th 1947-April 25th 2010)