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