It's very quiet beside the woods where the narrator is mowing his field with a scythe. The scythe whispers back and forth as he works, and he starts imagining what the scythe might be saying. However, he knows perfectly well that there's nothing really going on beyond his own good old-fashioned hard work. It might be fun to imagine that fanciful things might happen when he's out by himself mowing a field, but the reward of his work is honest and true, and that's good enough for him.