Poem: THE SOLITARY REAPER by William Wordsworth

Today I'm enjoying a poem by William Wordsworth called THE SOLITARY REAPER. I learned about it through the Academy of American Poets "Poem a Day" service. Initially, the title made me think of Halloween and something spooky, but the poem is sweet and a bit melancholy though not at all scary. To me, this perfectly evokes the sense of change and passing time that comes with fall and the harvest. It also has me thinking about those chance meetings with people - the ones who quickly, unexpectedly enter and leave my life, but something about them stays with me even after they're gone. 

THE SOLITARY REAPER

by 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 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 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.

This poem is in the public domain.

LINK TO ACADEMY OF AMERICAN POETS

Comments

[Carol Varsalona]

The poem by Wordsworth was unknown to me but had such a magical quality with its soothing lilt that allowed for wondering about moments in life in which we stand in awe of something that catches our eye.

[Bridget Magee]

Thanks for sharing Wordsworth's poem, Tamera. Melancholy indeed. =)

[Tabatha]

The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more. -- what a lovely ending!