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!
 
 

William Wordsworth wrote some very long poems--his Prelude runs to about 8,000 lines!  But this short, simple lyric has tremendous impact.
 
This poem is one of several of Wordsworth’s lyrics which are loosely grouped together as “the Lucy poems.” We don’t know who Lucy was—or if there was a Lucy! Wordsworth never answered that question—and scholars have speculated endlessly on the subject. All we really know is that these poems, mostly written in 1798 and 1799 while he was living in Germany, are some of Wordsworth’s most powerful meditations on loss.
 
The first stanza of this poem emphasizes the isolation of the girl about whom Wordsworth writes. “She dwelt among the untrodden ways / Beside the springs of Dove, / A Maid whom there were none to praise, / And very few to love.” This girl—still nameless at this point in the poem—lives among “untrodden ways” by the source of the river Dove. As specific as that sounds, there are several rivers named Dove in England, and Wordsworth could be referring to any one of them. What’s important here, I think, is that word “untrodden.” She lives in a remote area, where the paths are trodden by few feet. That is why there are “none to praise” and “few to love” her.
 
In the second stanza, Wordsworth gives us two metaphors for Lucy. “A violet by a mossy stone / Half hidden from the eye! / - Fair as a star, when only one / Is shining in the sky.” Violets grow low to the ground—beautiful, but easy to miss. But stars are lofty, and noticeable—especially when only one is visible. The beauty of the “Maid” is both hidden, and not hidden.
 
So far, this could be the beginning of a conventional love poem. A humble but beautiful village maiden – what will happen next?  What happens next turns our expectations upside down. The love poem turns into an epitaph. “She lived unknown, and few could know / When Lucy ceased to be; / but she is in her grave, and, oh, / The difference to me!” In the same short line, we learn Lucy’s name, and we learn that she is dead. Her death, like her life, was hidden away, known to few—but nevertheless had a profound impact. The last lines capture the speaker’s deep grief: “she is in her grave, and, oh, / The difference to me!” The exclamation “oh,” and the word “difference,” are commonplace—but in this context, powerful. “Oh” can mean everything and nothing; it can be a gasp of surprise or shock, or a moan of pain; here, it feels like a bit of both. The last line is vague, but for that very reason, striking: “The difference to me!” Lucy lived and died known to very few, and loved by even fewer; but this speaker can’t seem to express what her life and death meant. Everything is changed. Everything is different.
 
As we enter November, the Church’s month of prayer for the dead, we are invited to remember and pray for our beloved dead—to pay attention to the difference their absence makes for us. I think poems can truly help us do just that. And I think Pope Francis would agree. Earlier this year, Pope Francis wrote a letter about the importance of teaching literature in seminaries. Future priests, he said, need to be readers of poetry and fiction. He wrote:
 
“Literature has to do with our deepest desires in this life…. Literature helps us to reflect on the meaning of our presence in this world, to ‘digest’ and assimilate it, and to grasp what lies beneath the surface of our experience. Literature, in a word, serves to interpret life, to discern its deeper meaning and its essential tensions.” (Pope Francis)
 
For further reading - the other “Lucy poems”
 
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45553/a-slumber-did-my-spirit-seal
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45520/i-travelled-among-unknown-men
https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/strange-fits-of-passion-have-i-known/#google_vignette
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45559/three-years-she-grew

Corinna Laughlin