Behold her, single in the field,
You 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 over flowing with the sound.
看了这一节之后,他又忽然翻过一张来,脱头脱脑的看到那第三节去。
Will no one tell me what she sings?----
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battle 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?