HEROINES OF THE POETS.

WORDSWORTH’S LUCY.

HE 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
Ts 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!

1790.

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I travelled among unknown men,
In lands beyond the sea; .
Nor, England! did I know till then
What love I bore to thee.

’Tis past, the 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 cherished turned her wheel
Beside an English fire.

Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed
The bowers where Lucy played ;

And thine too is the last green field
That Lucy’s eyes surveyed.

1799-