The Reapers 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? 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 should find them all again __In the fields of light above. Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath, __The Reaper came that day; ‘T was an angel visited the green earth, __And took the flowers away.