The solitary reaper---By William Wordworth

The Solitary Reaper----i read this poem at school level.............and it has been there in my memeory seated firmly .Dont know why but it gives me some kinda solace.....with the simplicity and the way the it is painted when i read it i feel that i am actually hearing that mysterious song which Wordsworth could not comprehend himself but felt about so deeply.........it happens sometimes....we get to feel related to such unrelated,incomprhensible things at times and understand them in the light of our own thoughts.......our own moods.....thats my perspect about this poem.....


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 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 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.

William Wordsworth