A Reaper Still...
It was a sunny morning,
The Bard was glad and strolling
By those fields of Scotland.
Dorothy on him leaning
With lighter feet and feeling,
All her views on lowland.
To know this nature closer
Sent her senses farther,
For finding hues of new land.
"Behold Her! Single in the field"
Whispered, as wonder ceiled
Seeing lass of highland.
Noting worth and its beauty
The poet did all his duty
For his sister who was thirsty.
Behold the Solitary reaper!
Who has turned a clever creeper
Soothing human souls deeper.
Still her ‘Melancholic Strain'
Resounding all those terrain
Where slow cloud-flakes land in!
In the cool currents of delight
Seeing Those Heralds
Of Moon's Blue Castle!
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