Wednesday, July 28, 2010 11:07 PM
she dwelt upon the untrodden ways
beside the streams 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
-Wordsworth