Sunday, April 1, 2007

She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways

William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
     Beside the springs of Dove,
A maid whom there were none to praise
     And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone
    Half hidden from the eye!
- Fair as a star, when only one
    Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know
    When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
     The difference to me!

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