A First Series of Hymns and Songs/Descriptive Songs/Lucy Gray

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19. Lucy Gray

No mate, no comrade Lucy knew,
She dwelt on a wide moor,
The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a cottage-door.
You, too, may spy the fawn at play,
The hare upon the green,
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.

"To-night will be a stormy night,
You to the town must go,
And take a lantern, child, to light
Your mother through the snow."
"That, father, I will gladly do;
'Tis scarcely afternoon—
The minster clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the moon."

At this the father raised his hook,
And snapp'd a faggot-band;
He plied his work, and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand.
You yet may spy the fawn at play,
The hare upon the green;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.

Wordsworth