She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways

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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!

© William Wordsworth