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!

1. Power of Music
2. Beggars
3. Stepping Westward
4. Characteristics of a Child Three Years Old
5. To B. R. Haydon

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2236

Последние стихотворения

To English version