No More Learning

The voice was soft, and she who spake
Was walking by her native lake:
The salutation had to me [1]
The very sound of courtesy: 20
Its power was felt; and while my eye
Was fixed upon the glowing Sky,
The echo of the voice enwrought
A human sweetness with the thought
Of travelling through the world that lay 25
Before me in my endless way.


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VARIANT ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

. . . seemed to me

In MS. letter to Sir G. Beaumont. N. D. ]


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FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: Italics were first used in 1855. --Ed. ]



The following is from the 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland':

"Sunday, Sept. 11th. --We have never had a more delightful walk than
this evening.
Ben Lomond and the three pointed-topped mountains of
Loch Lomond, which we had seen from the garrison, were very majestic
under the clear sky, the lake perfectly calm, the air sweet and mild.
I felt that it was much more interesting to visit a place where we
have been before than it can possibly be the first time, except under
peculiar circumstances. The sun had been set for some time, when,
being within a quarter of a mile of the ferry man's hut, our path
having led us close to the shore of the calm lake, we met two
neatly-dressed women, without hats, who had probably been taking their
Sunday evening's walk. One of them said to us in a friendly, soft tone
of voice, 'What, you are stepping westward? ' I cannot describe how
affecting this simple expression was in that remote place, with the
western sky in front, yet glowing with the departed sun. William wrote
the following poem long after, in remembrance of his feelings and
mine. "

Ed.





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THE SOLITARY REAPER


Composed between 1803 and 1805. --Published 1807


One of the "Poems of the Imagination" in 1815 and 1820. --Ed.




Behold her, single [1] in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain, 5
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 [2] 10
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard [3]
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas [A] 15
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?