We Are Seven

A simple child...That lightly draws its breathAnd feels its life in every limb,What should it know of death?I met a little cottage girl-She was eight years old, she said;Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered 'round her head.She had a rustic, woodland airAnd she was wildly clad;Her eyes were fair, and very fair; Her beauty made me glad."Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may

She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways

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!