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"The Solitary Reaper" is a ballad by English Romantic poet William Wordsworth, and one of his best-known works in English literature.

Here is the poem.







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 shrilling 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 listen'd, motionless and still;

And, as I mounted up the hill,

The music in my heart I bore,

Long after it was heard no more.

COMMENTS

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DarkMuse
17:03 Oct 03 2012

The picture goes great with this, and the poem,

could hear the music, the legend, the folklore.

Thanks for sharing:)

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temporary2
03:40 Oct 04 2012

You are welcome. I enjoy this picture but my favorite is in my profile "The Circle" by Waterhouse.

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