The Solitary Sower

He longed to know the maiden's song

And unanswered, he left the quest.

I reply to him - I feel it so strong -

She sang with happiness at its best!

Neither was it a song of strain,

Nor a tune of awaiting pain.

There was neither hurt, nor turmoil;

It was indeed, the fruit of her toil!

Who'd be reminded of any pains

While reaping the hard constructed gains?

The solitary reaper was happy in grace,

Bathing under joyous sunrays.

If there were howe'er a solitary sower,

She'd sing so dull, on a pitch lower,

For worse than hers, there isn't a grief,

For she sows and sows with no relief.