Wednesday, August 18, 2010

The Solitary Reaper


    Behold her, single in the field,
    Yon solitary Highland lass!
    Reaping and singing by herself;
    Stop here, or gently pass!
    Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
    And sings a melancholy strain;
    O listen! for the vale profound
    Is overflowing with the sound.

    No nightingale did ever chaunt
    More welcome notes to weary bands
    Of travelers in some shady haunt,
    Among Arabian sands;
    A voice so thrilling ne'er heard
    In springtime from the cuckoo-bird,
    Breaking the silence of the seas
    Among the farthest Hebrides.

    Will no one tell me what she sings?--
    Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
    For old, unhappy, far-off things,
    And battles long ago;
    Or is it some more humble lay,
    Familiar matter of today?
    Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
    That has been, and may be again?

    Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang
    As if her song could have no ending;
    I saw her singing at her work,
    And o'er the sickle bending;
    I listened, motionless and still;
    And, as I mounted up the hill,
    The music in my heart I bore,
    Long after it was heard no more.

    Source URL: https://logoswallpapers.blogspot.com/2010/08/solitary-reaper.html
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