Entry: The Solitary Reaper Thursday, January 26, 2006



One of the unforgettable poems, which came back to haunt me when I was sitting alone and wondering how different people handle life with an extra dosage of solitude :)

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;
0 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.

   1 comments

Graffiti Speak
February 18, 2006   11:13 PM PST
 
Ah there!...Wordsworth did the magic with his pen and you quoted it with your keyb-o-r-e-d...that's a nice one...remember the explanations given by my English teacher even now and my silly doubts that I had asked her...hey but why lonely? you forgot me huh? :-( I could have helped somewhat to ward it off! ;-)

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