Wordsworth's "Lucy Gray"

Oft I'd heard of Lucy Gray And when I crossed the wild I chanced to see at break of day The solitary child No mate, no comrade Lucy knew She dwelt where none abide The sweetest thing to ever roam Upon the mountainside As carefree as a mountain doe A brand-new path she broke Her feet dispersed the powdery snow That rose up like the smoke The storm came on before its time She wandered up and down And many a hill did Lucy climb But never reached the town Her mournful parents all that night Went shouting far and wide But there was neither sound nor sight To serve them as a guide They wept and turning homeward cried In Heaven, we all shall meet When in the snow, the mother spied The print of Lucy's feet And then an open field they crossed The marks were still the same They tracked them on not ever lost Unto the bridge they came They followed from the snowy bank Those footmarks one by one Into the middle of the plank And further there were none Yet, some maintain that to this day She is a living child That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild