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Ingelow, Jean, 1820-1897

"Poems by Jean Ingelow, In Two Volumes, Volume I."

I think he spoke to us.
_M_. No, little elves,
You were so quiet that I half forgot
Your neighborhood. What are you doing there?
_J_. They sit together on the window-mat
Nursing their dolls.
_C_. Yes, Uncle, our new dolls--
Our best dolls, that you gave us.
_M_. Did you say
The afternoon was bright?
_J_. Yes, bright indeed!
The sun is on the plane-tree, and it flames
All red and orange.
_C_. I can see my father--
Look! look! the leaves are falling on his gown.
_M_. Where?
_C_. In the churchyard, Uncle--he is gone:
He passed behind the tower.
_M_. I heard a bell:
There is a funeral, then, behind the church.
_2d Child_. Are the trees sorry when their leaves drop off?
_1st Child_. You talk such silly words;--no, not at all.
There goes another leaf.
_2d Child_. I did not see.
_1st Child_. Look! on the grass, between the little hills.
Just where they planted Amy.
_J._ Amy died--
Dear little Amy! when you talk of her,
Say, she is gone to heaven.
_2d Child_. They planted her--
Will she come up next year?
_1st Child_. No, not so soon;
But some day God will call her to come up,
And then she will. Papa knows everything--
He said she would before he planted her.


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