SONG.



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.





A slumber did my spirit seal,
I had no human fears:
She seem'd a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.