By William Wordsworth (1807)
Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Will no one tell me what she sings? —
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago…
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.
Originally published in Poems in Two Volumes (1807) by William Wordsworth. Public domain.
Analysis
The poem is an encounter first and an interpretation second. A figure in a field becomes a singer, and her song, though untranslated, fills the speaker with meaning. Wordsworth refuses to solve the mystery — he hazards possible themes then withdraws, allowing the music’s power to lie precisely in what exceeds understanding.
This reticence is ethical. To honor the reaper’s privacy, the poet listens without appropriation, letting the song stand as a self-sufficient life. The lyric’s restraint teaches a Romanticism of regard: attention as hospitality, sympathy that does not consume its object.
The final quatrain elevates the meeting into memory. Moving away, the listener carries the music inward, where it becomes a durable solace like the daffodils. Wordsworth’s claim is subtle and large: the heart’s best companions are often those we know by sound and posture rather than by name.