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 nought that is fair save he? Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath 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 a mother gave in tears and pain the Flowers she most did love; She knew she'd find them all again in the Fields of love above. Oh, Not In cruelty and 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.