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!
“She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways” William Wordsworth poem