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    Lucky Gray by William Wordsworth

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    sahajoydev20
    Lucy gray

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    © All Rights Reserved
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    Lucky Gray by William Wordsworth

    Uploaded by

    sahajoydev20
    2 views1 page
    Lucy gray

    Original Title

    lucky gray by William Wordsworth

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    Lucy gray

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as pdf or txt
    2 views1 page

    Lucky Gray by William Wordsworth

    Uploaded by

    sahajoydev20
    Lucy gray

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as pdf or txt
    of 1

    "Lucy Gray" is a poem written by William Wordsworth in 1799 and published in his Lyrical Ballads.

    It describes the
    death ofa young girl named Lucy Gray, who went out one evening into a storm. Lucy Gray is the lyrical story of a
    very lonely girl, a lover of nature and apparently full of kindness and innocence. She lived with her parents in a
    faraway valley, seemingly in isolation.

    At day-break on a hill they stood


    Oft Ihad heard of Lucy Gray, That overlooked the Moor;
    And, when Icrossed the Wild,
    Ichanced to see at break of day And thence they saw the Bridge of Wood
    The solitary Child. A furlong from their door.

    No mate, no comrade Lucy knew; They wept, and turning homeward cried
    She dwelt on a wide Moor, "In Heaven we all shall meet!"
    -The sweetest Thing that ever grew When in the snow the Mother spied
    Beside a human door! the print of Lucy's feet.
    You yet may spy the Fawn at play, Then downward from the steep hill's edge
    The Hare upon the Green; They tracked the footmarks small;
    But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
    Will never more be seen. And through the broken hawthorn-hedge,
    And by the long stone-wall;
    "To-night will be a stormy night,
    You to the Town must go, And then an open field they crossed,
    And take the lantern, Child, to light The marks were still the same;
    Your Mother through the snow." They tracked them on, nor ever lost,
    And to the Bridge they came.
    "That, Father! Will Igladly do;
    This scarcely afternoon They followed from the snowy bank
    The Minster-clock had just struck two, The footmarks, one by one,
    And yonder is the moon." Into the middle of the plank,
    And further there were none.
    At this the Father raised his hook
    And snapp'd a faggot-band Yet some maintain that to this day
    He plied his work- and Lucy look
    The lantern in her hand. She is a living Child,
    That you may see sweet Lucy Gray
    Not blither is the mountain roe; Upon the lonesome Wild.
    With many a wanton stroke
    Her feet disperse the powdery snow, Over rough and smooth she trips along,
    That rises up like smoke. And never looks behind;
    And sings a solitary song
    The storm came on before its time, That whistles in the wind.
    She wander'd up and down,
    And many a hill did Lucy climb
    But never reach'd the Town.

    The wrecked Parents all that night


    Went shouting far and wide;
    But there was neither sound nor sight
    To serve them for a guide.

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