She dwelt among the untrodden ways

William Wordsworth

1770 to 1850

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A violet by a mossy stone
  The difference to me!
  And very few to love:
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
A Maid whom there were none to praise
She lived unknown, and few could know
  Beside the springs of Dove,
  Half hidden from the eye!
  When Lucy ceased to be;
—Fair as a star, when only one
  Is shining in the sky.
But she is in her grave, and, oh,