The Solitary Reaper

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 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