| 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 travellers in some shady haunt, |
| Among Arabian sands : |
| A voice so thrilling ne’er was heard |
| In spring-time 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 to-day ? |
| Some natural sorry, 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.
|
| William
Wordsworth |
Classic Poems |
| |
|
[ Composed Upon Westminster Bridge September 3 ] [ Daffodils ] [ The Prelude ] [ Lucy ] [ Intimations of immortality ] [ The Solitary Reaper ] [ The world is too much with us ] [ My heart leaps up when I behold ] [ Milton ] [ Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg ] |
