The Reaper and the Flowers

The Reaper and the Flowers

There is a Reaper, whose name is Death,

And with his sickle keen,

He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,

And the flowers that grow between.

'Shall I have naught that is fair,' saith he:

'Have naught but the bearded grain?

Tho' the breath of their flowers is sweet to me,

I will give them all back again.'

He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,

He kissed their drooping leaves;

It was for the Lord of Paradise

He bound them in his sheaves.

'My Lord has need of these flowers gay,'

The Reaper said, and smil'd;

'Dear tokens of the earth are they,

Where he was once a child.'

'They shall all bloom in fields of light,

Transplanted by my care;

And saints upon their garments white

These sacred blossoms wear.'

And the mother gave, in tears and pain,

The flowers she most did love;

But she knew she could find them all again,

In the fields of light above.

O, not in cruelty, not wrath,

The Reaper came that day;

'Twas an angel visited the green earth,

And took the flowers away.

Unattributed

3:9, p. 4

1839.03.09