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



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?

Though the breath of these 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 flowerets gay

The Reaper said and smiled; 

'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

She knew she would find them all again

In the fields of light above



Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath

The Reaper came that day

'Twas an angel visited the green earth

And took the flowers away



'Twas an angel visited the green earth

And took the flowers away