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.