Laurel · William Wordsworth · Lyrical Ballads

We Are Seven

common measure · ABAB · 69 lines · from Lyrical Ballads

A simple child, dear brother Jim,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 curlThat cluster’d 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 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 you 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--“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 church-yard she was laid,“And all the summer 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?”The little Maiden did reply,“O Master! we are seven.”

“But they are dead; those two are dead!“Their spirits are in heaven!”’Twas throwing words away; for stillThe little Maid would have her will,And said, “Nay, we are seven!”

Words in this poem

clad v.: To clothe. Holland.
dwell v. i.: To delay; to linger. [OE. dwellen, dwelien, to err, linger, AS. dwellan to deceive, hinder, delay, dwelian to err; akin to Icel. dvelja to delay, tarry, Sw. dväljas to dwell, Dan. dv]
porringer n.: A porridge dish; esp., a bowl or cup from which children eat or are fed; as, a silver porringer. [OE. pottanger, for pottager; cf. F. potager a soup basin. See Porridge.]
jane n.: A coin of Genoa; any small coin. [LL. Janua Genoa; L. Genua, also OE. Jean.]
went n.: Course; way; path; journey; direction.

Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.

About this text

We Are Seven is in the public domain. This text is taken from Lyrical Ballads, With a Few Other Poems (1798), Project Gutenberg ebook #9622; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.

Cite as: William Wordsworth, We Are Seven, in Lyrical Ballads (1798), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #9622, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/lyrical-ballads/we-are-seven.html, id L02854.

Form and metre

We Are Seven is 69 lines in 17 stanzas. The rhyme scheme is ABAB, complete in 13 of its 17 stanzas. The metre is common measure, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 92%). 97% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.2 syllables. 7 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 6% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.

See other poems in common measure.

Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.

Rhyme words, stanza by stanza

The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.

1 ABAB jim^A · breath^B · limb^A · death^B
2 ABAB girl^A · said^B · curl^A · head^B
3 ABAB air^A · clad^B · fair^A · glad^B
4 -A-A maid · be^A · said · me^A
5 ABAB tell^A · we^B · dwell^A · sea^B
6 ABAB lie^A · brother^B · i^A · mother^B
7 ABAB dwell^A · sea^B · tell^A · be^B
8 ABAB reply^A · we^B · lie^A · tree^B
9 ABAB maid^A · alive^B · laid^A · five^B
10 -A-A seen · replied^A · door · side^A
11 ABAB knit^A · hem^B · sit^A · them^B
12 -A-A sir · fair^A · porringer · there^A
13 ABAB jane^A · lay^B · pain^A · away^B
14 ABAB laid^A · dry^B · played^A · i^B
15 ABAB snow^A · slide^B · go^A · side^B
16 ABAB i^A · heaven^B · reply^A · seven^B
17 -ABBA dead · heaven^A · still^B · will^B · seven^A

Scansion, line by line

Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against common measure. How this is done.

Line	Syl.	Stress
A simple child, dear brother Jim,	8	·/˘··/˘·
That lightly draws its breath,	6	·/˘···
And feels its life in every limb,	8	·····/˘·
What should it know of death?	6	······
I met a little cottage girl,	8	···/˘/˘·
She was eight years old, she said;	7	·······
Her hair was thick with many a curl	8	·····/··
That cluster’d round her head.	6	·/˘···
She had a rustic, woodland air,	8	···/˘/··
And she was wildly clad;	6	···/˘·
Her eyes were fair, and very fair,	8	·····/˘·
--Her beauty made me glad.	6	·/˘···
“Sisters and brothers, little maid,	8	/˘·/˘/˘·
“How many may you be?”	6	·/˘···
“How many? seven in all,” she said,	8	·//˘····
And wondering looked at me.	7	·/˘˘···
“And where are they, I pray you tell?”	8	········
She answered, “Seven are we,	7	·/˘/˘··
“And two of us at Conway dwell,	8	·····/··
“And two are gone to sea.	6	······
“Two of us in the church-yard lie,	8	········
“My sister and my brother,	7	·/˘··/˘
“And in the church-yard cottage, I	8	·····/˘·
“Dwell near them with my mother.”	7	·····/˘
“You say that two at Conway dwell,	8	·····/··
“And two are gone to sea,	6	······
“Yet you are seven; I pray you tell	8	···/····
“Sweet Maid, how this may be?”	6	······
Then did the little Maid reply,	8	···/˘·˘/
“Seven boys and girls are we;	7	/˘·····
“Two of us in the church-yard lie,	8	········
“Beneath the church-yard tree.”	6	······
“You run about, my little maid,	8	·····/˘·
“Your limbs they are alive;	6	····˘/
“If two are in the church-yard laid,	8	········
“Then ye are only five.”	6	···/˘·
“Their graves are green, they may be seen,”	8	········
The little Maid replied,	6	·/˘·˘/
“Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door,	9	······/˘·
“And they are side by side.	6	······
“My stockings there I often knit,	8	·/˘··/˘·
“My ’kerchief there I hem;	6	·/˘···
“And there upon the ground I sit--	8	········
“I sit and sing to them.	6	······
“And often after sunset, Sir,	8	·/˘··/··
“When it is light and fair,	6	······
“I take my little porringer,	8	···/˘/˘˘
“And eat my supper there.	6	···/˘·
“The first that died was little Jane;	8	·····/˘·
“In bed she moaning lay,	6	···/˘·
“Till God released her of her pain,	8	··˘/····
“And then she went away.	6	····˘/
“So in the church-yard she was laid,	8	········
“And all the summer dry,	6	···/˘·
“Together round her grave we played,	8	˘/˘·····
“My brother John and I.	6	·/˘···
“And when the ground was white with snow,	8	········
“And I could run and slide,	6	······
“My brother John was forced to go,	8	·/˘·····
“And he lies by her side.”	6	······
“How many are you then,” said I,	8	·/˘·····
“If they two are in Heaven?”	7	·····/˘
The little Maiden did reply,	8	·/˘/˘·˘/
“O Master! we are seven.”	7	·/˘··/˘
“But they are dead; those two are dead!	8	········
“Their spirits are in heaven!”	7	·/˘··/˘
’Twas throwing words away; for still	8	·/˘·˘/··
The little Maid would have her will,	8	·/˘·····
And said, “Nay, we are seven!”	7	·····/˘

On this poem

Composed 1798, and, like Anecdote for Fathers, founded on fact. Wordsworth and the little maid forgathered at Goodrich Castle, on the Wye, Herefordshire, in the summer of 1793. The poet made this ballad while pacing to and fro in the grove at Alfoxden: he ‘composed the last stanza first, having begun with the last line.’ Coleridge crowned the tale with an impromptu prefatory stanza, into which he playfully worked the name of an absent friend, James Tobin. The ballad was written to show ‘the obscurity and perplexity which in childhood attend our notion of death, or rather our utter inability to admit that notion.’ James Tobin, on the eve of the volume’s appearance, had urged Wordsworth to cancel We are Seven, warning that if published it would make the author ‘everlastingly ridiculous’; the poet thanked him smilingly, but let the poem take its chance. [Hutchinson]

The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.

More by William Wordsworth

Lyrical Ballads The Brothers, and Other Poems The Prelude, and Other Poems