"Some people say life is the thing, but I prefer reading"
- Logan Pearsall Smith
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Sunday Poetry - William Wordsworth
Two of the Lucy poems today. Partly because I think they're lovely but also because I was rereading Barbara Pym's A Glass of Blessings last week & Wilmet quotes the last lines of the second poem & reminded me of them. I'll give them the numbers they have in my anthology but I've seen them numbered differently elsewhere.
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!
A slumber did my spirit seal; I had no human fears: She seem'd a thing that could not feel The touch of earthly years.
No motion has she now, no force; She neither hears nor sees; Roll'd round in earth's diurnal course, With rocks, and stones, and trees.
I'm an avid reader who loves middlebrow fiction, 19th century novels, WWI & WWII literature, Golden Age mysteries & history. Other interests include listening to classical music, drinking tea, baking cakes, planning my rose garden & enjoying the antics of my cats, Lucky & Phoebe. Contact me at lynabby16AThotmailDOTcom