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William Wordsworth : She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
	Beside the springs of Dove1,
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!

William Wordsworth (1770-1850)	P. 1799

1the name of a river

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