With apologies to Mr. Wordsworth:
SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the stacks of books,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And give admiring looks:
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
--Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
By what she was annoyed;
But now she has a blog, and, oh,
She's harder to avoid!