The Solitary Reaper
de William Wordsworth(2006)
1 min lectură
Mediu
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.
Despre aceasta lucrare
- Autor
- William Wordsworth
- Tip
- Poezie
- An
- 2006
- Cuvinte
- 183
- Citire
- 1 min
- Versuri
- 32
- Actualizat
Cum sa citezi
William Wordsworth. “The Solitary Reaper.” Clasici, Poezie.ro, https://poezie.ro/clasici/william-wordsworth/poezie/the-solitary-reaper-171187Intrebari frecvente
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