She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways – William Wordsworth

She dwelt among the untrodden ways

                Besides the spirings of Dove,

A maid whom there were none to praise

                And very few to love;

A violet by a mossy stone

                Half hidden from eyes!

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