She 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 mossy 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 she is in her grave, and O!
The difference to me!
-WORDSWORTH-
YOU ARE READING
Paperback in Time
PoetrySo when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And music shall untune the sky. -Dryden This book is an idea I've been wanting to do for awhile. It's bas...
