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The Worlds of Gilbert and Sullivan

This lovely thought-provoking poem by William Wordsworth depicts a rustic theme that has long since disappeared from our Western landscape. It describes a Highland scene of his time, leading towards but yet still entering the age of agricultural mechanisation, an age of hard graft, but an age of freedom and peace in these lands. And his fascination is with a Scottish lass singing at her work - still a lovely scene in any age!

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;
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 today?
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.

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