She Dwelt Among The Untrodden Ways

by William Wordsworth

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!

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