I can’t help but wonder what Wordsworth’s poem The Solitary Reaper would look like if it had been written by the woman’s perspective. (Click here for the original poem first if you’re not familiar with it. Or else, you know, this won’t be funny and you’ll just think I’m crazy.)
The Solitary Creeper
I stand here, single in the field,
A solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by myself;
I spot him in the grass.
Alone he sneaks—oh girls, beware—
And gives a melancholy stare.
O listen! Pining on on the ground,
The field overflows with sound
No nightingale did ever chaunt
More noisy notes to present tense
He believes that I don’t see him haunt
Poor soul. He’s so very dense.
A voice so grating ne’er was heard
From the peacock to the magpie bird
Breaking the quiet of the day
By stalking me. Oh, happy day.
Will he not tell me what he wills?
Perhaps he’s playing hide and seek
Or seeking something in the hills?
Get me far from this geek.
Why should he stand there, stare at me?
It takes self-restraint not to flee.
Maybe he’s lonely, or wants a wife?
Dude—no. You need to get a life.
What’er the cause, this maiden knows
Dating creepers means tragic endings
So I continue at my work,
Hope it’s bad signals that I’m sending
And breathe a sigh of sweet relief
When he slinks away like a thief.
But the creeped-out feeling I still bore
Long after he was seen no more.