It Could Be Verse!

Lost* And Found Poem

To Lucy ‘mong the untrodden ways,
Said the lad, ‘I get a kick out of you,’
Never mind him; let him go.
You are more of a violet
By a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye.
Here, take this shot of rye.
No motion has she now, no force
Stone drunk on my rye
Beside the springs of Dove.

(* Lucy in Wordsworth’s words ‘ceased to be.’ She was lost. )
benny