She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
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!
More verses by William Wordsworth
- A Character
- I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud (Daffodils)
- To The Supreme Being From The Italian Of Michael Angelo
- To The Spade Of A Friend (An Agriculturist)
- The Martial Courage Of A Day Is Vain