The Solitary Reaper by William Wordsworth
The Solitary Reaper - William Wordsworth 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 chant 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, ...