She dwelt among th' untrodden ways
Beside the sprinds of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:
A Violet by mossy stone
Half-hidden from the Eye!
- Fair, as a star when only one
Is shining in the sky!
She liv'd unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceas'd to be,
But she is in her Grave, and Oh!
The difference to me!