Song
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
Our guest editor writes: This poem is very simple but very powerful. It was especially important to me after the death of a much beloved member of our family. She may not have been very important to many people, may not even have been really noticed, but when she was not there anymore – Oh! The difference to my wife and me.
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