This was one of my favorite poems, which i used to keep reading over and over again, and wonder, what would Lucy be doing whole day and why did no one turn up to her grave and what if some day someone dies anonymous, no soul to care for, no one to weep...
SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways
Besides the springs of Dove,
Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:
A violet by a mosy tone
Half hidden fron the eye!
---Fair as a star when only one
Is shining in the sky
She lived unknown , and a few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
William Wordsworth.
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