“She dwelt among the untrodden ways”
by 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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