She dwelt among th' 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 liv'd unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceas'd to be;
But she is in her Grave, and Oh!
The difference to me!