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Grandpa Pencil's She dwelt among the untrodden ways |
| Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love: |
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| Half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. |
When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me! |
William Wordsworth
 Great Poets |
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 Go Home |
 Baby Bits |
 Nursery Rhymes |
 Little Rhymes |
 Australian Fairytales |
 For The Teacher |
