Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray
And when I crossed the wild
I chanced to see the break of day
The solitary child

No mate, no comrade, Lucy knew
She dwelt where none abide
The sweetest thing that ever grew
Upon the mountainside

You yet may spy the fawn at play
The hare among the green
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen

Tonight will be a stormy night
You, to the town, must go
And take a lantern, child, to light
Your mother through the snow

That, Father, will I gladly do
'Tis scarcely afternoon
The village clock has just struck two
And yonder is the Moon

At this, the Father turned his hook
To kindling for the day
He plied his work and Lucy took
The lantern on her way

As carefree as a mountain doe
A fresh new path, she broke
Her feet dispersed the powdery snow
That rose up just like smoke