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Long after it was heard no more...


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.
The Solitary Reaper by William Wordsworth is one poem that I keep coming back to every single time. There are some things that you just get stuck to. No they don’t rule your thoughts for the entire length of the day. They do not drive you crazy with their eternal presence. But, they somehow just creep into those corners and gaps of your thoughts which are often left unfilled. Not always pleasant, those memories/images, not always hopeful, you just happen to keep stumbling upon them someway or the other. And when you do, you cannot help but smile at them and let them gently pass.

This poem is one of those images for me, the last stanza being my favourite. The sad, melancholic tune of the poem goes well with the theme of the maiden’s song. Weird how the poem talks about memories that you bear in your heart “long after it was heard no more” and has just the same impact on it’s readers! J
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