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William Wordsworth (Уильям Вордсворт) The Springs of Dove 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 oh! The difference to me! William Wordsworth's other poems:
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