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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 !
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,
you Had little voice or none.
But now proud thoughts are in your breast-
way Would deck you many a Winter's day, A happy Eglantine !"