william wordsworth - the solitary reaper - ghizela rowe lyrics
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 sеas
among the farthest hebridеs
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
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