Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/72

64 LUCY GRAY.

Oft had I heard of Lucy Gray,

And when I cross'd the Wild,

I chanc'd to see at break of day

The solitary Child.

No Mate, no comrade Lucy knew;

She dwelt on a wide Moor,

The sweetest Thing that ever grew

Beside a human door!

You yet may spy the Fawn at play,

The Hare upon the Green;

But the sweet face of Lucy Gray

Will never more be seen.