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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
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;
The difference to me.
A slumber did my spirit seal ;
I had no human fears : She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.
No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees,
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course
With rocks and stones and trees!
"Begone, thou fond presumptuous Elf," Exclaimed a thundering Voice, “ Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self Between me and
" Dost thou presume my course to block ?
“ Ah !" said the Briar, “ blame me nots.
“When Spring came on with bud and bell, Among these rocks did I Before you hang my wreath, to tell That gentle days were nigh! And in the sultry summer hours I sheltered you with leaves and flowers And in my leaves, now shed and gone, The Linnet lodged, and for us two Chanted his pretty songs, when You Had little voice or none.
" But now proud-thoughts are in your breastWhat grief is mine you see, Ah! would you think, even yet how blest Together we might be! Though of both leaf and flower bereft, Some ornaments to me are left Rich store of scarlet hips is mine, With which I in my
way Would deck you many a winter's day, A happy Eglantine!"