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