WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
What fond and wayward thoughts will slide
Into a lover's head! 'O mercy ' J to myself I cried,
'If Lucy should be dead I~l i_ Be
��530 (it)
dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love. A violet by a mossys 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, But bhe is in her grave, and oh,
The difference to me!
��i
��53 ^ (*)
TRAVELL'D among unknown men, In lands beyond the seaj Nor, England 1 did I know till then
What love I bore to thee. 'Tis past, that melancholy dream!
Nor will I quit thy shore A second time, for still I seem To love thee more and more. Among thy mountains did I feel
The joy of my desire; And she I chcrish'd turn'd her wheel
Bebide an English fire.
�� �
