WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be ; But she is in her grave, and oh,

The difference to me !

��T TRAVELLED among unknown men,

In lands beyond the sea ; Nor, England ! 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 cherish'd turn'd her wheel

Beside an English fire.

Thy mornings show'd, thy nights conceal'd, The bowers where Lucy play'd ;

And thine too is the last green field That Lucy's eyes survey'd.

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years she grew in sun and shower; Then Nature said, 'A lovelier flower

On earth was never sown ; This child I to myself will take ; She shall be mine, and I will make

A lady of my own.

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