He lived amidst th' untrodden ways To Rydal Lake that lead: --A bard whom there were none to praise, And very few to read.
Behind a cloud his mystic sense, Deep-hidden, who can spy?Bright as the night, when not a star Is shining in the sky.
Unread his works -- his 'Milk-white Doe' With dust is dark and dim;It's still in Longman's shop, and Oh! The difference to him!
