I remember a poem The Solitary Reaper.
Tuesday, 14. April 2009,
09:29
09:29
"Behold her, single in the field,
Here the poet wants the meaning of the song. Now I'm trying to guess how sweet the melody of that song was.... May be I could have listened to it.
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No Nightingle did ever chaunt
No Nightingle did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
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
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the furthest Hebrides.
Will no one tell of what she sings?-
Will no one tell of what she sings?-
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
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
Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;-
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mourned up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more."
Here the poet wants the meaning of the song. Now I'm trying to guess how sweet the melody of that song was.... May be I could have listened to it.
