She Dwelt Among Untrodden Ways - by William Wordsworth

She dwelt among the untrodden ways

Beside the springs of Dove,

Maid whom there were none to praise

And very few to love:

A violet by a mosy tone

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!