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She dwelt among th’ 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 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.

A slumber did my spirit seal,

I had no human fears:

She seem'd a thing that could not feel

The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force

She neither hears nor sees

Roll'd round in earth's diurnal course

With rocks and stones and trees!