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She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways by William Wordsworth

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!

This poem is extremely sad, but interesting. It makes one wonder why there was not a single person that "praised" and "loved" her. Wordsworth leaves so much out of the story about the way Lucy's life was that there is a mysterious quality to the poem. She is described as a "violet by a mossy stone". If she is so perfect next to such ugliness, why does no one love her?