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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
Fair, as a star when only one
She liv'd unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceas'd to be;
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.
No motion has she now, no force
She neither hears nor sees Roll'd round in earth's diurnal course.
With rocks and stones and trees!
The WATERFALL and the EGLANTINE.
“ Begone, thou fond presumptuons Elf,
“ Dost thou presume my course to block ?
“ Ah !" said the Briar, “Blame me not!
When Spring came on with bud and bell,
But now proud thoughts are in your breast-
way Would deck you many a Winter's day, A happy Eglantine!”