The Seventh Child

Year: 1972


From  The Seventh Child

I am the seventh child
And my parents loved me well;
They gave me the silver of seven stars-
And the chime of a crystal bell.
My father gave me a penny-
(He would not give me gold;)
And he led me up to the bookshelves,
And said, 'Here is wealth untold.'
My father kissed my forehead-
And my mother stroked my hair;
And they wished me well yet were fearful
I would stumble on many a stair.
I was the silent one;
Who dreamt, who wept – who prayed;
I was the seventh child who a worry of living made,
For I dwelt with an unknown shadow;
On an unknown pathway laid.
'Oh father, what do you fear?
Oh mother, I see you crying;
Oh mother, what do you hear?
And why are you always sighing?'
I played my poems to my father
In a room with a carpet of blue;
He loved to hear my music,
For music he always knew….
He sang with a tenor voice
Making our hearts rejoice,
In a room of seven mirrors,
With walls that were palest gold;
And here my mind like a flower
Was taught to bloom and unfold.
'Will our strange child be a poet?
Will her young heart break in two?
For Beauty that comes to a seventh child
Is a burden given to few…..
.......And all that I loved and wanted
God took away from me…
I was the seventh child
And grief was my destiny….
I was the seventh child
With the wild blood in my veins-
The blood of my Irish forebears
Who wandered the emerald plains….
But when I come to the last blue hill
That cannot be far away,
I shall find the ones whom in life I lost-
And hear the angels say:
'Here is coming the seventh child
With tears in her Irish eyes;
Let us lead her to those who loved
In this haven where nobody dies…’
And because I am the seventh child,
I will climb on my father's knee….
Oh, mother, I want to sing my songs
For you both through eternity.
Paula Fitzgerald (1972)